By the 51st street station,
   you had unfolded your hair.
   Revealing the smooth 
   shaven skin of your calves. 
   I was a canal street busboy
   working for minimum wage.
   I offered you jade and pearls
   to embellish your thin neck.

   By the 42nd street station,
   the chemise of your dress
   revealed the edges of your thighs.
   I was an immigrant jew,
   pawning silverware on 4th street.
   I offered you my honor
   for your deep blue soul.

   By the 33rd street station
   you had untied the bows,
   revealing the symmetry
   of your breasts. 
   I was a conquering hun
   on the moated gates of Gaul.
   I offered you my sword
   forged by anvil and fire.

   By the 14th street station
   we were lovers.
   Raging fire on the prairies.
   Heavy monsoon clouds
   bursting over the seas.

   By the 8th street station,
   we were anonymous souls
   waiting for the next stop.