croons tunnels of yellow squares,
heat, graffiti and body smells
beneath Lincoln Center,
flesh on flesh and the grime
of windows pressing my face
into Duke Ellington’s A-train.
From NYU to the bowels of the Bronx,
I changed at 59th Street,
and oh, how I wrote those grad-school
papers on Pinter and the loss of self, eating
a baloney sandwich with mayo and lettuce
on smashed white. One night
I thought a stray bullet grazed me . . . .
–excerpt from “Subway Blues” in To Sip Darjeeling at Dawn by Donna Pucciani (Virtual Artists Collective 2011). First published in You Are Here: A Journal of Creative Geography.