City With A Slow Heartbeat; draft #3

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

Knife scratch phone numbers etched in dull stainless steel
seats covered in seventies style thin and stained carpet
violet speckles on soft neon blue.
Ink stain directions smudged in broad crack head script
From the 15th ride the broad street line north
get off at Allegheny
and you're at the Diamond street projects.

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

From Erie-Torresdale going West
here on elevated tracks high above Kensington Avenue
ride quiet quite like the glance of a bull
in the kicked up dust just before the charge:
just the squeal of breaks
the breathless mechanical whistle of metal against metal
and a mechanized voice announcing the next station on deck
letting us know whether the doors are open or closed.

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

To my left across the aisle two men sit facing each other,
I see them out of the corner of my eye,
each sprawled across two seats,
one sitting back twisted
arms gray anguish folded across the back of the seat
speaking gravel too fast
but not for his brother no he ain't no fool
he won't get fooled again
he ain't no fool and he won't get fooled again.

He speaks and chants and sings
and God bless this and god bless that
god bless these bitumen black-grey roofs that stretch out
endless in the dusk and we only pass by with vacant stares
burrowing holes into windows seatbacks and floor,
or chins notched in books
avoiding cigarette burn holes in my jeans,
even as we ride by abandoned warehouses shit full of shattered glass.

City With A Slow Hearbeat; draft #2

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

Knife scratches are phone numbers etched in dull stainless steel,
seats covered in seventies style yet thin and stained carpeting
violet speckles on soft neon blue.
Ink stains are directions painted in broad crack head script
From the 15th ride the broad street line north
get off at Allegheny
and you're at the Diamond street projects.

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

From Erie-Torresdale heading West though actually South
this ride quite like the stern glance of a bull before the charge:
just the squeal of breaks
the breathless mechanical hum of metal against metal
and a mechanized voice announcing the next station on deck
here on elevated tracks high above Kensington Avenue,
“Next stop Somerset...Next stop York-Dauphin...Next stop Huntington...
Next stop Berks...

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

To my left across the aisle, two men sit facing each other,
each sprawled across two seats,
one sitting back twisted,
arms of gray anguish folded across the back of the seat
speaking gravel too fast
but not for his brother no he ain't no fool,
he won't get fooled again,
he ain't no fool and he won't get fooled again.

He speaks and chants and sings
and God bless this and god bless that
god bless these bitumen black-grey roofs sretching out endless
and we only pass by,
some solemn with heads held high
vacant stares that would burrow through your brain if you let them,
or chins notched in books to avoid the piercing eye of the Public
that burns hole trough us like cigarettes burn holes through jeans
even as we ride by abandoned warehouses shit full of shattered glass.

But I still feel a heartbeat.
No don't leave this one to die on the streetside
this city with a slow almost silent heartbeat.

City With a Slow Heartbeat; rough draft

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

Phone numbers knife scratched in dull stainless steel
seats thin covered in cold stained carpeting seventies style
violet speckles on soft neon blue.
And directions painted in broad crack head script
From the 15th ride the broad street line north and get off at Allegheny
and welcome to the Diamond street projects.

Welcome Latenight Rider, the cool eyed El awaits you.

Heading South through West out of Erie-Torresdale
not expecting this ride's quiet ride:
just the squeal of breaks in rhythm
the breathless mechanical hum of air against metal
and the prerecorded voice that announces each station's arrival
here high above Kensington on elevated tracks,
“Next stop Somerset...York-Dauphin...Huntington...Berks...

To my left across the aisle, two men sit facing each the other,
each taking up two seats to himself,
one speaks gravel too fast for me to follow
but not for his brother no he ain't no fool,
he won't get fooled again,
he ain't no fool that won't get fooled again.

God bless this and god bless that
god bless these bitumen black-grey roofs we pass by,
solemn held heads high
vacant stares burrow through your brain
or breathful and intentful slumber of chins notched in books
burn as we ride by abandoned warehouses shit full of shattered glass.

But doc,
I can still feel a heartbeat,
don't leave this one to die on the streetside:
this city of two rivers, this city with a slow somber almost silent heartbeat.