Stations of The Dross
Tales From Underground
A screeching of brakes comes across the station.
“Please stand clear of the closing doors.”
That dull thump of rubber as the subway doors slap shut may as well be the click of the ball dropping onto the numbers on a roulette wheel.
Your money is down so might as well relax into it.
A winner? A loser?
Look left, then right.
There’s a chance that Lady Luck may even have a seat waiting for you.
Or else she’s busy breathing on somebody else’s dice—and you get dealt some warning sight, or stinging stench, that instead sends your mind on a strategy for preparing to bolt to the very next car at the following stop.
For starters today an average hand of high and low cards has been layed out in front of you. Nearest the door a woman reads a magazine, the man next to her with a small thick paperback, embossed cover—absorbed in a page turning world of suspense, military espionage, far from this mundane subway ride.
“If you see a suspicious package or activity, do not keep it to yourself. Tell a police officer or an MTA employee. Remain ALERT and have a safe day.”
