What do I find?
What can I find
through the hills and holes of the underground?
A brisk wind travels through the train windows
as the rush of the tracks moves us forward.
I sit and stare.
A tired mind listens to the constant entrances and exits.
Echoes of movement follow the train as it speeds
toward everyone’s different destinations.
Slow, steady steps lead upward—
an automated climb back to the street.
Some arrive late.
Some arrive right on time.
Some step off exactly when they need to.
People rest.
People rush.
People stare at their phones.
Another step outside.
Wind against my face.
I reach my destination:
bouncing elevators,
broken mailboxes,
the same yellow and brown hallway.
The familiar clutter.
The low evening quiet.
But somewhere in the middle of all of this,
I practice patience.
Each ride home
is another chance
to become a little better
than I was before.

