on a scale from walking
to sprinting, we make
the transfer, keep pace
with fellow commuters –
it’s how i imagine
the Pamplona encierro –
running with the bulls,
someone slips
sometime –
but here, in
Brooklyn, between
the L-train and the
G-train, no one’s looking
out to save us
.
20140326:0850
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I’ve never been to Pamplona, but my ancestors come from El Valle de Mena, about two hours away. Suffice to say, between my roots in Spain and my youth in NYC, I feel this poem.
neither have i! but don’t you get that sudden rush when the commuters beside you start running between transfers? like, do they know something i don’t?