F Train Station On New Years Day Poem by June Labyzon

White rabbit angst clings
to the rise and fall of my footsteps
as they make numerous twists and turns
headfirst into the underworld urban woods.
A stream of resolutely fixed faces
push out of the turnstile as I push in.
I am left sputtering and anxious, spiraling downwards.
A small mustached man spoons with his guitar,
one foot caressing an open case
hosting a brick of dollar bills.
His coffee coated voice rises in cool unfamiliar tones,
as he makes mythical movements towards me.
His daring ingenuity lets me into his language,
sliding beside me with the sleaze of a long time lover.
A startled bird I make exactly the wrong move,
and for just a moment,
we are a little bit too close.
For just a moment
and a dollar in the case.