Vox Populi
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Doug Anderson: Number 1 Broadway Local, 1981
Armpits soaked through shirts, through suit jackets,
urinous funk of a madwoman sleeping, taking up two seats
in a subway car crammed with the silent going home,
the last bit of spirit worked out of them,
too hot even to read and the air conditioning broken,
last night’s blood not yet mopped up off the floor
and down the car comes the deaf guy handing out
little cards explaining his condition, asking for money,
and the Latin women touching him for blessing
and the children of the privileged on their way uptown
to their newly polished floors, their rent doubled,
and into this car comes the evangelist and his helper,
sweating in their suits, speaking of the Hell that has
bled up from below and is now neck deep, somewhere
he has got to be thinking, it’s too hot to preach
and you can’t do nothing for these folks nohow,
and then the deaf guy comes back through
snatching up his cards from those who haven’t given.
—
Copyright 2016 Doug Anderson
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