Sometimes I Ride the F Train All Night/ poem by Bruce Weber

Sometimes I ride the F line all night
Huddled in a corner seat
Sandwiches and chips and soda
At the ready for 3 a.m. hunger
I love the rattle of the train
Crossing out of lower Manhattan
Into the splashing darkness of the city
The world is so big then
The panorama adrift in boats
Making their murky way
Beyond safe harbors
And toothless old men
Dreaming of lost loves
I sketch fellow passengers in pencil
Catching a head fallen into sleep
Or alert for factory whistle
Lunch boxes rustling in the wind
I recall Pound’s imagistic poem
Mating motion and flower
The magic of shadows
And the rush of morning
And close my eyes
Listening for the whoosh
Of mighty metal legs
Moving powerfully through dark tunnels
Rats patrol in quest of runaway cats or dogs
At Coney Island
I exit for brief stir
Among the sleeping dragon ride
It’s tail twitching
In anticipation
Of rolling across the weaving ocean
And screaming children
Buckled in for safety
Adrift in herky jerky dream
And return to my corner of the world
Like in a painting by Vermeer
The milk poured by a still hand
Reaching for infinity
Slow motion snapshot
Captured in a paintbrush
Dipped in muted tones of light
And move on
Returning to underground slumber
Huddled among my fellow denizens 
Of the night
Moving back and forth
Across the sweaty girth 
Of this beautiful city In the dark 

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Read more of Bruce Weber's writing here in Lightwood. Go to our Search Button and enter his name and click. 

Bruce Weber is a poet and historian of American art. He is the author of six books of poetry. The most recent is There Are Too Many Words in My House (Rogues Scholars Press, 2019). He and his wife Joanne curate the monthly Tuesday evening multidisciplinary series Dialogues for the Ear & Eye at the 9W Diner in Saugerties. Bruce also produces the Hudson Valley New Year's Day Spoken Word/Performance Extravaganza.