On the M Train

The man reached up
and barfed—the subway floor
a river of his leftovers—
lucky or not the pinstriped
Wall Street
men left.
 

Lucky for me I was alone with the man.
 

I smelled the floor.
I cared for all of it
reading a book
the whole way in
on the M train
reading a book
about the best moment
one can ever have
the moment called
bliss
when we are lifted
beyond expectation
into whatever gold
shines.
 

Lucky for me
I was alone with the man.
Lucky for me I cared
for all of it.

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