Looking Up

prose poem

"Next stop: Clark and Lake.  Doors will open on the right at Clark and Lake."  The words echo as if your head was hollow.  A briefcase, tailored jacket, and pair of designer glasses sit across from you; no, only an ugly man sits across from you.  A quick glance at his watch and you're grounded in reality until you forget you noticed 3:43 three minutes before.  The window shows your mirror-like reflection; it's dark outside, or maybe you're just underground.  Closing your eyes, you wonder if you're sober enough to determine if you're sober or not and give up when you hear "This is Clark and Lake.  Next stop: Merchandise Mart."  Doors reach toward a man who glides through them, but miss and only grasp each other.  Cold air rushes from behind his oversized jacket and you remember you're not underground, but on an elevated track.  He pulls off his obnoxiously sized skullcap and reaches toward his heart.  No, he reaches toward his umbrella.  He points it at the designer glasses and begins to talk in the native language you've forgotten to understand.  The ugly man is afraid because a gun is being pointed at his face.  Your eyes drop to comb the floor for the umbrella; it is nowhere to be found.  Your eyes raise to a spinning blur where you see the ugly man laying across the handicapped seat.  Fingers wrapped around the metal pole, you pull yourself only until your legs buckle. "This is Merchandise Mart.  Next stop: Chicago."  The gun man turns toward you and menacingly opens his mouth but says nothing.  You speak, but your mouth is closed.  He turns and glides again between the doors, holding the leather briefcase.  Your eyes close, and the plastic ground suddenly presses hard against your face.  Your arms push you to your feet. "This is Chicago."  A sudden impulse carries you through the doors to the edge of the platform.  You lean over the railing; spit drops into the darkness below you, and then your head lifts.  The Sears Tower stands before you: a pillar, holding the curtain of light pollution that will guide you home.  "Doors closing. This train will run express from Chicago to Belmont."