Mutant spring by Ricardo Lago
Summer in the City
Missed Connections in Brooklyn, NY
I’m a transplant.
New to this city.
New to the dogpiles of strangers — to their barking, their whimpers.
I’m stood on, trampled down.
And not in love with the madness of Midtown.
But on the train today I stood next to you.
They stood next to me, on top of me, all over me.
Their hands clawing at the walls of the train.
You read your book, quietly, calmly swaying with me and with this I danced.
You were close enough to hold, but I won’t reach out.
My shoulders grazed yours; my arm extended around you.
I left.
You paused.
Were you dancing too?
Bergen & Smith
NOTE FROM THE MISSED CONNECTIONS CHIEF BOTTLE FINDER:
The Five Burroughs are a teeming mass of humanity – over eight million people living in just 305 sq. miles of space. It’s an area of never-ending transplants who either take root or die off trying. Message like this one is what keep them coming – will our poet thrive?
