a poem started on the subway

- (i) spend my days dreaming
beneath/above the city streets
in long subway corridors
gliding
propelled by tracks laid down by
others.

above slick streets repaved with
bouncing-jarring potholes
bumps-and-manic bus drivers braking

(if i grow my hair long, will they...
- i dont even need to ask...
i know the answer -
they WILL
treat me as equal
with the respect my birth year would
demand of them)

inbetween the layers that mild winters do demand
(this most certainly is not the twin cities that ive loved so well)

in fact most everything right now (in life)
is that great daunting inbetween
inbetwixt

the one day is yet to come

i dreamed so big before
that now i must learn to hear the rest of me thats been silent in hopeful wishing

... and so they see what it is that they are looking for
short hair no high heels
can only mean one thing
never two or three
or even somewhere decimaled

... and thats ok

cuz my earphones give sound to scape

and all i need do is get on the bus
go down the stairs
into the city's tunnels

and dream bigger than what she wished for me

because now ive found her

because now

i can find

all the rest of me

thats been waiting up above and down below