By Lilly Gelman
On our way to work, or school,
Or out, we sit in the same shoebox cars.
Adjacent, but never together
With others only in pixels and codes.
Our faces aglow, light up the underground tunnels
The screens divide
Separating us from them and each other.
It is best not to see
Or hear, so we fill our ears with static
Shaped like beat drops and harmonies,
Recorded voices more important than the other.
These tracks carry people, both native and not
To destinations and occasions marking each person
Themselves. But we carry the universe in our pockets
And palms, missing those who have experienced
The world. Tapping away each inflection,
Replacing humor and
Love with yellow winks and red hearts.
We get to work, or school and forget
Those whose thighs pressed up against
Ours, whose fingers we grazed
As we held the pole in one hand
And grasped stability in the other.