ode to rush hour/subway discretion we ride here where gentility measure strength this underworld umbrella protecting not zeus atman or jehovah from the sun or shade we ride crowded as rainclouds hovering in nebulous sky faces like sullen fish stare but never speak homebound to accept the awaiting darkness of lives calculable and dreams predictable until death reappear like rosebud blooming amidst winter stillness nothing moves within this nucleus of numbness neither being nor becoming more than more or less an afterthought premeditated existentially exaggerated