english journal 8 (1/08) the gunnery washington, connecticut

Subway race trackUgh…it’s been five seconds and already I’veWanted to vomit,Just the smell alone does it.That, sour milk meets B.O. and that…Orange brown-ish something slowly making its wayTo my feet.All I want to do is get out of here.There’s someone to my left, and someone to my rightSomeone’s standing in front of me, and somehowI’ve managed to rest my foot on top of someone’s leg.He’s got a crooked left eye,And it always seems like he’s looking at you, but he isn’t.The sleeping woman across from me wakes up, looks around,And decides it’s okay to show a complete stranger pictures ofHer children. You could tell,He wasn’t interested.One more stop and I’m there. Finally.It’s up to me to slither my way through everybody,Making sureNot to brush up against the man in the overcoat by the hand rail.My back is sweating a little, and I can feel my shirt stickTo my seat. The woman, the man with the crooked eye, and“overcoat man” look at the door.It’s going to be a race. In 4th place running like a sick dog,“thhhaaaaa……manwhocantseewherehesgoing”.In 3rd, she’s making everyone wish they had taken a cab,“thhhaaaaa…….womanwhoskidsmakeeveryonecringe”In 2nd… it no shock, “overcoat man”.And in 1st. The man who leaped over legs, dove underArms, jumped through little gaps.Me.Sam HuntEnglish Journal 8 (January 2008) 8