Subway Ride Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

I sit here, on this metal monster,
and try not to
stare at the plastic faces
of the people sitting around me.
We sit here in our
business suits and corporate glares.

I realize that another day has begun
I have already sold my soul for this ride
Undetectable stains on my favourite tie.
(Which I loathe wearing)

I ride the tunnels and think
that I should envy myself:
“Hey man you live in the city,
that is where all the action is”
And as that statement plays itself
like dried macaroni in my head
I realize that sitting in
this rushing tube of metal
is the climax of my day!

I work in an office,
push papers…………… they push back
“Yeah ……I'm the man”
The company needs me!

Jostling of the passengers flicks
my attention from off to on,
bringing me back to reality.
I bend down to pick up a quarter
only to find out
that it is glued to the floor.
With humiliation smeared on my face,
I rise hoping that it dripped off
And no one saw! !

Smiling to myself I turn into myself.
Remembering when I would have refused
to have become a parasite living
vicariously off the blood
dangling from the ripped out brains.


Trying to escape from the
trapped exterior, I push my way
to the door.
Ah, it is closed and the metal tube
refuses to stop rushing us
towards our occupations.

The darkness of the tunnel swallows
any dreams I have had of escaping.

There is no escape from the
pressing down of conformity.

I sit here, on this metal monster,
and try not to
stare at the plastic faces
of the people sitting around me.
We sit here in our
business suits and corporate glares.
Cellphones glued to our ears.
We sit together,
but we do not connect.