tram this time

riding an underground mortuary
with the undead, where the noise of screeching
is paralyzing, the cost of grease must have
rocketed on the wings of the price of oil

eight stops and one-half migraine later
above ground, near empty ears
vibrate from a train passing
in the other direction

at last we had finally made it
to Hell’s End
to wait for a bus, it was sunny
my jacket now too heavy

thirty minutes later the bus arrived
when all boarded
the driver left
for a 15 minute break

foreigners aboard
heading for the office of immigration
to redo papers and fingerprints in case they changed
all for the pleasure of remaining in Italy

with the bus seemingly packed
at the first stop
we topped off, packed again
just to be sure it was filled to capacity

now my jacket acted like a heat blanket
felt a draft of cool air,
must have been a mistake
or the breath of an evil spirit

at the new office
200 people in a space for fifty
18 windows do business,
three were open

we had twenty minutes
window close at 1130, then reopen after lunch at 330
but we made it in time to hear
we should come back in the fall

seems we were here just a century ago
when we got back in the subway
zipping the way they say takes time
off a test-tube rat’s life

then near the termini
the happy people, 2
sat down for Indian Fast Food,
ate lunch and swallowed defeat