below Grand Central

it is here

below the granite of streets

and high-rise

buildings.

the darkness, the screech

of iron

and steel,

it is here where you arrive

and leave,

with one small

bag of your belongings.

already

drenched in the smells

of what

keeps the city alive.

the grease of it all,

the fairy dust,

the hollers and yells,

the horns

blaring.

all of it in a constant

bustle.

it is here where you'll

rise on the moving

stairs,

and enter this other world.

neither fair

or fair.