While the MTA’s performance has been notoriously underwhelming lately, I’m lucky to live near the reliable Q line for the summer. That said, my commute is by no means uninteresting…
Prospect Park:
Pigeons pecking puke
While I wait for the Q train.
(Yum.) #Sunday.
7th Avenue:
Self-awareness check:
Your DIY pedicure
on the train? Please don’t.
Atlantic Avenue/Barclays:
No 2 or 3 trains
Into Manhattan. EVER.
Mwaha-haha-ha.
Dekalb Avenue:
Colgate saliva
On the train floor. But oh, he’s
Forgotten to floss.
Canal Street:
Old Spice fills the train
Like carcinogen incense.
(“B-O? D-O, bro.”)
Union Square:
Gaggle of burly
Hungover muscle queens musc
Le muscle muscle
34th Street:
Costume change: he’s got
Short-shorts, reading “Monster” on
His crotch. (A moving sight.)
Times Square:
MTA delays.
Platforms slowly fill up with
Proud early risers.
72nd Street:
Two fathers, holding
Their twins’ hands, head southwards
To march for their lives.
(Happy Pride.)