New Year’s Rush

New Year’s Rush

Poem by Rose Auslander
Photo by Nicky Yurcaba


I got up, ran to the subway, missed my train,
put another month on my Metrocard
and that was it, 2011? Done.
Almost passed out at the Fulton Street stop.
Should have had breakfast
but there was a stair where
there hadn’t been, a concrete passage to the 2-3
where the old black and blue tiles used to sail
into clouds
framed in blood, long since dried
into candy — probably buried
under those posters for Aruba, probably
goosing those young, smiling men
embracing half-naked women
drinking rum while we push past
scratching under our black wool coats,
throwing elbows, spitting, whistling at that
aqua sunlight, those waves of gold.
Running late, I don’t want to leave Aruba.
Who does?
So we kiss as always
under the steps, you and me.
Then you get out a smoke,
we climb to the street,
I adjust my dress.

-refers from the word kissed in Laura McCullough’s poem The lips were the worst

  1. I can picture it all. Love the details in the poem that just take me there. Especially like

    scratching under our black wool coats,
    throwing elbows, spitting, whistling at that
    aqua sunlight, those waves of gold.

  2. Wow Rose .. . way to ring in the New Year. “running late, I don’t want to leave Aruba. Who does?” Loved that Rose! And the ending. Thanks for my Rose fix today!

  3. Just found this. Love the movement.

  4. Hi J.S.
    I enjoyed the movement as well; the way it holds your attention while giving making you feel as though you’re in a whirlwind, until the end. Great Work! Thanks for your support.

  5. Rose Auslander

    Nicky, I love the rushing river/subway rush juxtaposition. And gosh, Andrea, Debbie, J.S., and Kathie, belated thanks for your kind words!

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