Wednesday On The F Train Poem by Ames Petrossi

7pm F train,
halfway between
Delancey & Ditmas
compassion & indifference
a man draped in greasy jackets
fenced into his seat
by a cheap metal walker
bloated plastic bags tied to all sides
pitiful floatation devices
it’s obvious he’s drowning.
casualty tossed mercilessly
from Hardin’s boat. dead weight.
red faced. useless.
eyes closed slurps pain relief
malt liquor from a tall boy,
farts with abandon
swollen hand expels empty can
loud onto the floor. smash!
he’s entitled, I think
a physical body in society
not of society.
his ankles are angry red
cracked plastic left too long on a beach
the flesh screams,
drunken face serene
I won’t look away, I think
bitter bile sour acrid reality
trickles up my throat,
the agony of the commons