Subway Stairs

I looked down at the subway stairs I was climbing. Just a flight of stairs, but suddenly it took on a weight and gravity, because I was going to my lover's home.

Beneath this flight of stairs, I could sense those other stairs, sprinkled across new york city. 102nd and Broadway. Astoria Boulevard. South Second and Havemeier. Somewhere way the fuck out in Queens. Port Authority. Grand Central. The stone, the wood, the laminate stairs.

The premonition I would only become as familiar with these stairs as I did with those others levied itself against the longing I already had to climb these with enough regularity to surpass them.

I surfaced onto Union Square, with cold January to greet me. For once, then a while, and hopefully longer, I have found the path to my lover.