Now it is my stop. I must get off to change trains.
I discover as soon as I ascend the stairs in Times Square station
that the old plywood passage to the N and R
has been replaced by tunnels just unveiled
still sealed in plastic wrap -- they aren't yet painted,
but when I reach the platform it's just the same:
dirty, grungy, and crowded -- typical!
I listen to the drummers as I await the train
which when it comes I contemplate jumping in front of
but finally I desist.
I want to hear Jackson Mac Low read tonight,
and while the Lower East Side poetry scene
is quite accepting, a corpse might be too much
for even them to take.