Chasing Pelham 123


Matinee show, two orchestra seats
The doors open in five
Abandoned masks litter the station
We catch the subway just in time

My iPhone is a ticking grenade
Incoming notifications: another blast of dopamine
I want to check the messages but
Friends warned us to keep our belongings close

The doors slide open
There’s a blast of lukewarm air,
Smelled of wet cigarettes
We’ve reached our destination

Running up the steps
I feel like I am coming up for air
We are the last ones in the lobby
They check our cards before checking our bags

No time for concessions,
You’re certain there’s an intermission
But we left the playbill at the door
The conductor waits for us to take our seats

As the lights dim, I feel a sneeze coming on
This fabric mask isn’t much of a silencer
The musicians lower their instruments and stare me down
The conductor peers over his shoulder

The show must go on.

Photo Credit

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