Bubble Wrap (Original Poem)
Most patrons of the westbound Metro are trapped,
imprisoned, in their own bubble of music.
The angel and demon on their shoulders have grown bored,
replaced by two slugs whispering in their ears with plastic slime.
If I could listen to those shrill voices singing inloud,
stick my head in the bubble, what would I learn?
An Armani thug? Chopin on his way to work?
What if I were to pop the bubbles?
Let them hear
the subway.
The baby’s cough.
Notes: An older poem, built when I couldn't help but notice my fellow commuters trapped in their own little worlds one day. Amazing how eager we are to escape the world around us and be isolated in a crowd. We enjoy the comfort of our bubbles and our noisy little slugs (now wireless!) and we forget the humanity of everyone around us. I hope you enjoyed!
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