Silver Serpent

Surf the night in the belly of the silver serpent through the jungle of steel under the cover of the asphalt and steam pipes of New York City.

Bags of mostly water sway in unison like so many eggs in the belly of the beast.

Every stop releases more to escape.

And the beast never goes hungry.

Wandering eyes find cracks in the shells of many - while too many others are weak from the blows life has dealt.

Paint from neighborhoods pass around the beast as his nightly migration continues hour after hour, and the clock ticks on as the heart beats strong and another schedule is maintained.

Inside the shell we quiver thinking of lives not where we exist.

Some of love or game and never do our hearts surrender.

When we ride the train.