i boarded the metro bus
with a baguette bag
shaped like a gun,
pointed it at the first poster
i saw, advertising discount liposuction
and a free cookbook.
i left the metro bus
with a guitar case
shaped like a cannon,
aimed it at the first busker
i heard, proclaiming sam cooke sentiments
and a hint of rocksteady.
i boarded the metro train
with a gym bag
shaped like a torpedo,
launched it at the first conductor
i saw, flipping ticketbook pages
and dangling pens.
if public transport was combat,
and the eyes of decrepit commuters
were actually bazookas, if
the ceaseless mouths of penniless students
were truly grenade launchers, then
the sturdy driver, huddled on the other side of plexiglass,
must be a united nations convoy
slightly stressed and overweight,
clearing the minefields of many lives misspent
without ever wagging a finger.
