Poem Scenes

by Gareth Edel

Scene - Subway Stairs - Winter 2003

Today, thoughts wandering, I found myself daydreaming about the innocent joys of childhood, and about the best moment yesterday. Not drinking. Not a pair of lips kissing my neck good night, not camaraderie. I was surprised as I stepped from an escalator in the subway, to come face to face with a Barbershop Quartet, singing harmonies.
They sang songs that were old when I was born, as were the men singing, This was unexpected.
And in front of them there were two couples then One dancing, and quietly singing along. Others lingered out of the circle of light. I stepped up, not so I could hear well. I could hear fine from farther back. I stepped closer, because I wanted the singers to know I was enjoying their show.
I stood still and I felt, before I knew I was happy, I felt my face change into a smile. I was surprised, as I heard Under the boardwalk, turn into duke of earl, to discover that I was singing along, and that my smile didn't feel surprising, and as I smiled, the lead singer smiled at me, and as i raced to catch the third train on the line I was supposed to go to, I looked back and wished I had left more money, and the singer winked at me...
And I still smiled, all the way to my destination

how is it
that the day breaks
and we wonder and wander
and speak not to another person,
but instead
think to ourselves of our sorrow
and fall into it
and feel as though we are drowning...
when all around us there are trees
branching out
with branches to grab onto
and people who wish to be loved as much as we

People mostly wearing black, collars down, but still hiding themselves in long coats.
In the crowd, a long pink coat, pale pink, on a girl born after it was first sold.
A tall girl and her friend, one conventional, the other a tower, a pillar rising of red
corduroy, blazing quickly down the sidewalk.
A baseball cap hiding her braided hair, a length to shade her lower back when released.
An old man in a pea coat and fisherman's hat, all in black except for brown leather dress shoes, polished mirror shiny.
The light in the sky is fading.
Headlights on the cars shine on.
I don't know if I am waiting in the right place.

Sitting on a street corner pleased to see,
A man in a conservative suit, and flashy tie.
Then I see a woman in showy hat when hats are out of style.
I spot a man in spats, over boots, wearing a leopard cowboy hat.
There was a man with lips like Danny Glover's and hair gone to white,
His hair struggling against bondage, wrapped in a bandanna….
Children with tiny mother looking up at them, half their size.
A man so tired, he walks dangerously, with heavy lids, almost shut.
A canary yellow scarf, on a woman dressed conservatively in tamed industrial colors.
A couple, holding hands, him older in a leather jacket, her, younger, with a red purse.
Checker cab, rolling along, among modern.
I hope I am waiting in the right place.

The woman blindly challenged a garbage truck.
Standing in a sweater and glasses.
Maybe she didn't see the truck, one side of her glasses was black and the other lens clear.
Suddenly she is laying down and crying.
I could almost imagine she had simply received some bad news.
Slowly, for a quick moment, those of us who are nearby declare the truck the winner.
And it remains the champion after one fight.
Then we rush, rush to see if there is some help we can offer.
And I see someone has a cell-phone, he is able to help, even while I can't.
She is still crying.
The truck driver stands throughout looking as if he was slapped hard in the face,
and doesn't yet know why he was hit.
Slowly some of us move away. Drifting.
Realizing we are also stunned, but realizing we are ready to leave.

The Two Girls who acted exciting and excited,
Favor me with feigned enthusiasm.
They scream with excitement, if not honestly
At least vehemently, at a woman with
Permanent colorful inked sleeves and a
Betty Page haircut.
She, shocked almost out of her wasp waisted corset, steps back at their outburst.
She turns as the first two girls scream about her coolness,
And retreats from their adoration (enthusiasm).

In a row
20 toes unable to hide in sandals
alternating silver and bronze.
Following the glitter is a smudge,
A pair of splattered boots,
And beyond,
Ten toes together,
Flanked at their rise by a tattoo, and all ten
Wrapped in leather straps of pure black