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Late At Night In the Subway

New York subway

A short huff touched my ear
down the stairwell,
and I looked at you
through the heavy, underground air.
I was tired.
The machine stench of asphalt and hot tar,
of old oil seeped through dirt and into cement,
stole half my air,
but I looked at you
and knew
I could stay like that for a long time
in that black hallway,
hang there and remember the brief air
and the stink
and the way your head turned slowly,
moving in that way you have after a long day,
to see the lights
of the oncoming car.
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