Day Starts at Vermont & Beverly
When I board the train in North Hollywood the sun is hidden away
And my arrival at Vermont and Beverly marks the beginning of Day.
Sirius, Canopus, Rigil Kentarus, guardians of the night
Have no place at this intersection and can not thrive in its light,
But I shuffle towards the elevator, and slip in as the doors nearly close
I Consider my fellow commuters and file into its rows
We sink into the earth, but the heavens can not trail,
So in its place we form our own from the air we exhale
In a flurry, I can never tell how, in the recesses of the earth
I travel beneath the cities, with my finger tracing its girth
The shuttle I’m in screeches at first, but soon settles into a hum
And with a ding of the doors I spring from my seat, laden with graff art and gum
I climb up the stairs, the first of the pair in a tizzy I must admit
Because I never know what the day will bestow once I reach its summit
But, repeating the mantra of an Anonymous Alcoholic I stumble up the second flight
I wince as I rise, closing my eyes, being blinded by Day’s light
I reach the top, Beverly & Vermont and inhale its emboldening air
I stretch out both arms in attempt to absorb Great Odin’s entire glare.
