The N lurches along in the stifling darkness mumbling platitudes to the ailing tracks. Desperate and alone, we hid behind newspapers, ipods, and blank faces jarring with over-thought ensembles silently mouthing prayers for sunlight, weekends, escape velocity. we are the seething masses of humanity gone in the teeth and like so much back ally trash just being pushed idly to and fro by the shopkeep's stoned stepson.
Like a live action tale of human misery. No sleeping beggars or fire breathing preachers on this car, no young lovers in the obvious bloom of passion being carried along to their next joyous adventure, nothing to draw us out of ourselves and bring the sneer to our lips at the inconvenience, the gall, the greener grass we don't really believe in. Just dull, listless eyes that can almost see the ghostly shackles; keeping us complacent, defeated. the only thing that keeps us plodding along is the vague notion of a destination and the numb cant: it could be worse.
As we finally emerge into the abysmal daylight out on the bridge, a collective shudder makes its way around the car. We put on shades, pull down hats, turn from the windows in fear and anger only to turn back. The illusion of fresh air and freedom brightens some, starting wistfully over the water towards the shining pinnacles of the financial district, the ocean, that vast emptiness that is never empty enough, never free enough; just cold, bitter, and mocking. But mostly we hide, wanting it all to be over. The trip, the train ride, everything. Mostly we just want hope to finally give up, lie down, and die so that we can let go, so that we can give up.
And we plunge back into the darkness.