The Subways of New York

Once again I’m climbing the bubble gum engraved stairs.
My fellow New Yorkers clamber onto as well.
Step. Step. Shove. Step. Step. Shove.
We made it. At the top is a different land.
Turnstiles and metro card machines.
Just as usual there are those faces again.
Though it’s always different, it’s always stern.
Walk. Walk. Glare. Walk. Walk. Glare.
Wait! There’s something different.
Two men, looking down. Their eyes shut.
Their mouths revealing a faint smile.
There’s more. There are two black coats laying on the ground in front of them.
Curiosity starts to create questions that are demanding answers.
Conscious starts to nag, simply saying no!
The turnstiles are turned and the emergency door opened.
Squeak. Squeak. Blare. Squeak. Squeak. Blare.
There I stood still letting my conscious and curiosity battle it out.
The steps, shoves, walks, glares, squeaks and blares suffocated me.
There’s only one way out.
It’s to continue.
So there I walked, glared, turned, stepped and shoved out into New York.

Linda Tun, Age 14, Grade 8, Hunter College High School, Gold Key

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