I’m not envious of the woman
being proposed to in the middle
of the subway car while a mariachi band
plays La Bamba,
se necesita una poca de gracia.

Nor do I care about the man
who sits across from me,
as he places his left hand
over the knee of his lover,
his ring finger bearing the mark of infinity.

I do not even mind the couple
in the corner fast asleep;
their heads like polarized magnets
drawn so close together,
despite their potential to clash.

What I do mind is the gap
between the 5 train and the platform
the Candy Crush commuters wouldn’t catch me
if I were to fall
in-between.

A tarot card reader on the floor
of the piss-laden Atlantic-Barclays station
tells me that my mind projects
its innermost desires onto others.

The card I draw from her hand
reaffirms that the 2.75$ fare
isn’t worth
all this crap.

-Raisa Alexis N. Santos