1.22.18 The R(eaper) Line

by Rula Al-Nasrawi

Man on the train
Thomas the tank engine
Dead without a question
Morning commute congestion
Blanket warm feet cold
Copper silver metal gold
Garage sale toys sold
Back when I was too bold
To give more than two fucks
This world is in flux
Clean shaven in a tux
But you’re dressed up for what?

Putrid rancid flaccid placid acid blasted
Rapid synapses
Flaky achy shaky cakey
Powdering noses
Keeping up with Joneses
Stopping to smell the roses
She waits till he proposes
While he decomposes
On an empty Q train
Piss stain new strain stale brain
The thought of death makes me insane
The thought of death makes me regain
More urgency
In who I want to be
In the places I want to see
I wonder was he like me?
Floating up in a sinking sea
Me wanting we
He wanting three
Close Pandora’s Box
Hiding the key
Security over impurity
There’s nothing dirtier than being free.