August 26, 2010 Leave a comment
M o v e*
You, lady, you came storming onto the number 1 train
With your heavy boots and boyfriend,
Subway map in hand,
Hand half-hidden by cracked leather jacket sleeve, too-long sweater,
And asked the blind woman to move over so you and he could ride
Side by side.
What you didn’t know was that not five minutes before
She had tried to sit on two small boys
Whose mother, across the aisle, hollered,
Get up! she cried, Let the lady sit!
As I rose and gently tugged the woman’s rigid arm.
Which I should not have done
Should have used my voice to say,
Someone is sitting there.
Then you, going three short stops yet couldn’t wait
Said slide over please
So you could chew your grinning boyfriend’s ear
As he gazed blank-eyed at the aisle air
While under the seat the woman’s dog,
German Shepherd flopped like a rag rug,
Chewed his paw.
© Andrea Wolper 1995
*Originally published in a poetry journal I can’t remember the name of and would have to dig through piles of storage to look up.