she checks on the seats
with rather meticulous
and critical eyes,
the only child of an
East Asian couple,
in her early teens,
fidgety, cynical, anxious

there’s something about the seats
that she cannot stand,
dirty? are there food particles all over them?
stains? what is it?

however, both her parents
are very much obliged,
the cooperation is met
with an uncanny precision,
even the movements,
the silent exchanges,
the instinctive agreement,
she pouts, moans, growls a little
nothing makes her feel alright
nothing’s alright at all

until the father,
a big man whose rough face
still manages to draw a gentle smile,
takes his seat, leans back,
and glances up at her
with a look of assurance.

the mother then takes her hand
and leads her to sit down,
arms wrapped around her,
keeping her still and safe.

she submits,
acknowledging her father
with a sweet gesture,
then lays her head
on her mother’s shoulder.

all this;
without a word
just pure silence
as the blaring sounds
of the subway train,
along with the automated
announcements
comfort all passengers

passengers who are all alone,
accompanied by their smart phones,
personal belongings, and purchases

yet in that mere moment,
wishes and memories
grace in their faces,
no matter what they may be
they had their childhood once

I had my childhood once.
And I’m glad.
I’m so glad.

a broken guy who’s from an unknown land
rides the transit with us; strangers to one another
who must act accordingly as a common bond,
his words slur, his English is as broken as his soul,
but what fascinates me most is how he can
pronounce evil words,
his awful sentiments about women,
Cuba, white people, black people, Indian people,
the Chinese… you’re lucky enough not to
catch those,
even as I’m typing this all down now,
my spirit staggers, begging for help
from the Lord.

exploitative, the darkest, the most vile,
the most hateful, the most despicable–he
proclaims them all without inhibitions,
the rage shattering out of his mouth
feels like hell has just split open for us
all to be swallowed in,
for him to shout,
“White people! Freedom! Freedom!
Finished!”–mocking the race,
the only words I can write about
coming from his outrage is
“Finished! All finished!”–shouting
about how dominant races
are all finished!

meanwhile, the crowd stays silent;
some are probably catching on,
others listen to their headphones,
some still manage to read their books,
others close their eyes to doze off–
I shut mine to try to wander away
but he’s too aggressive and flamboyant
to be blotted out–so I keep my ears
open and pretend not to be a
nosy Canine patrol officer of TTC
who’s hungry for stories.

a contemptible display and disturbance
on a public transit and yet…
… no one cares.
No one cares.

We’re all broken.
The world is broken.
Life is broken.

But that’s just how it has always been.
For us all to finally get to the bottom of
it all–
Truths.

a medical emergency is announced
happening at College Station,
a swarm of commuters is stranded at Union,
it’s the despicable rush hour,
some doom scroll on their phones,
others fall in confused silence,
some call their spouses or kids
alerting them of their tardiness,
others explain the chaotic situation
to their disoriented peers,
while two transit personnels warm,
“Step away from the yellow line!
Step away from the yellow line!” —
as they zing by the crowd,
the entire platform is packed,
hijacked with frustration, patience,
and a bit of shock all at once,
whereas, I, knowing it will be fine,
I stay put without budging —
just imagining how I would
make my dinner as a reward.

finally, they tell us to go upstairs
and take the opposite direction,
southbound train is traveling northbound
and vice versa,
the operator makes a blasting
announcement over and over again,
it’s the first time I hear it this loud,
reverberating through the jammed humans
struggling to breathe to survive
the hullabaloo,
and the train motor is on,
the trip home is possible under
such an unprecedented circumstance.

a nicely dressed lady who’s probably
in her sixties squeezes herself in from
Queen Station,
she stands beside me, nonchalant,
though I can tell she’s dying,
a guy sitting near me blows his nose
in the midst of wild silence; a woman
responds by clearing her throat as if to say,
“You’re disgusting!”, but the guy proceeds
to blow his nose again… and again… and again…,
the woman stays silent, she has lost the game,
there’s a woman reading a book
seated right before me,
she keeps wiping off her forehead
out of dread, she acts like she’s special,
meanwhile, the nicely dressed woman
wheezes and lowers her head,
then turns to me,
I ask her, “Are you okay?”
her pupils dilate, she looks like
she’s about to fait,
and she responds, “No.”

without hesitation, I look around to spot
an unbothered soul,
I find a man sitting comfortably
in the corner,
listening to his ear phones with his
eyes closed,
I gently disturb him and he opens his
kind eyes,
I say, “Can she take your seat? She’s not
feeling well.”
Instantly, he perks up and gets on his feet,
“Oh, sure!”
and the nicely dressed lady goes to
take over his seat, “Thank you,” she utters,
I lock eyes with the kind spirit and mouth,
“Thank you.”
he nods as his sincerity breezes through
the crowd.

I get off the train after moments of breaths
and heartbeats; tedious yet worth it.

After an hour of drowsy bus ride, I get
home and ask myself, “now, what was
my dinner? Dang, I thought I had already
planned it out, but I lost track of my
memory along the way.”

Oh, well, it’s just one of those days.
Another day of being alive to keep in
my memory.

Regardless.