An Ode, to the Subway.

Songs were sung,

  Tales were told.

  Oh, ye subway of the (now) & old.

Long, (not so) long ago, when I was little girl, I saw the dinosaurs.
Dead ones, flesh stripped off - skeletons, spooky. Archaic and Old.
Frozen.
Like my face was when we visited -
The M(etropolitan)T(ransit)A(uthority) Transit Museum. 
 

I have heard – [then, and now]:

Thy clattering tracks

And people in packs

The seven of us, our class, took the subway and walked there, to Brooklyn.

2 tracks left, 2 tracks right.

Fast and slow,

Off we go…

The entrance was dodgy-looking, instead of the grand columns and imposing doors it was just like any other random subway entrance on the street.

was, and is –

underground (WOOOOOOOW…), a little dingy,

mosaic gleams then paint’s all fade-y.

I'd seen most of the images and knew a lot of the basic facts that were displayed, because our class had seen the DVD "New York Underground" written by Elena Manns. It was surreal, really - seeing the brand-spanking-new-and-shiny footage of the beaver then seeing it in reality, faded and old. Like time had passed exponentially while I slept a jet-lagged, restless sleep. And then visiting a museum of the history of something current.

It's mesmerizing, in it's own way. Other people, subway-regulars, I assumed, drowsed and nodded away,  on the subway home. Me -

i have, been seduced, into thy warm embrace -

got lost, turned around

spun to the subway sound.

Come see the living dinosaurs of NYC in Brooklyn.
[You don't have to be little and in grade school.]