Extra Extra

by Amy Soricelli

Newspaper trembling black and white into the breezy afternoon-
flapping its paper wings into the stale subway air.
Shouts across the headlines, sits undisturbed half-open in an empty seat
fluttering its pages like a banner.
Old man with old dog - slide in unison to the single seat in the corner;
they fit together like a puzzle/rounded corners neat against the edge.
Shuffling sideways, tired homeward-bound faces move aside the newspaper -
push with quick glances the metered unremarkable happenings of someone else's life.
Someones misery/loss - battered faces turned-up noses; the perfect bodies of everyone else.
Shattered moments splattered like red paint.
Along the pole in the middle of the car hands on tight; swaying feet balancing the length of their bodies
not to touch one another/Not to blend.
The newspaper sliding slowly off the remaining empty seat; making way for the teen boy wired
deep from his ears -
songs competing out of tune with the hum and purr of the engine.
He glances to the floor where the news has landed -feet pressing their weary toes into yesterdays pages.
Under his feet now he turns trying to read them from upside down.