A train, High Street Station to Fulton Street, Thursday April 1st, 2014
We were witness to an extraordinary dialogue between two unstable people, perhaps drug or methadone addicts. She was lost and Manhattan bound. He was helping her find her way. It was frightening to hear such externalized anxiety, but also humbling. It is the stuff that we think of but do not ask. I tried to provide answers to her questions. Merlinda looked at me as if to say, “Don’t bother, it will not matter.” It was true. “How do I get to Broadway Junction?” “Right there across the platform?” “Where.” “Right there.” “I don’t see it, where?” I asked Merlinda to recount some of the dialogue as a poem.
how do i get to Broadway Junction
the man told me it was this train
I’m getting so many conflicting
I’m so confused
“You have to get in a train going
in the opposite direction!”
That’s not what he told me
I don’t have all day
I keep going in circles
You’re lying to me
No you shut up
Is this going to Manhattan?