So This is How to Take a Train in Boston...

Poem:

"North Station 2:00 PM Friday"

Pigeons as thick as pet cats straining greenblue necks

purposefully scouting Dunkin Donut crumbs on the concrete floor.

(Long ago they learned how to open the automatic doors by

crossing the electronic eye...a feat that amazes no one.)

World-wise children in proper strollers avoiding the birds,

scanning steadily ahead

following their intrepid parents’ stone gaze.

The view from the bench is rumps

shifting

under thin short cotton shorts,

under silky stretch jersey skirts,

under breathable fabric dress pants.

Shifting,

each cheek rising and falling

straining

for the call of the loud speaker.

Shifting the weight,

waiting the shift.

Amazing.