There’s a lady with a leek,
on the metro, next to me,
a vegetable, vegetating
while she’s reading a book,
and that leek, next to me,
moving through the miles,
like vegetables, on shopping aisles,
vegetating, waiting be cut,
to be cooked, killing time;
twisting, stopping, starting.
There’s a leek, on the lap
of the lady next to me
with the book that holds
no answers in the turned pages
as we move on the metro,
this morning, leek playing dead
so she won’t cut of its head
at home, later on, not here
on the metro, not here
with a knife (that wouldn’t be right)
not a lady with a knife
on the metro moving
cause there are checks now,
at the stations, you know,
so the homeless now
can have a job, don’t you know?
Funny things when you travel
on the metro, when you think
on the metro, next to ladies
with leeks, scouring cook books
for something to eat, something
to get us out of this state,
on metros moving through aisles
and dodging the missiles
that are coming increasingly now
more than just once in a while!

All Words and Photographs by Damien B. Donnelly


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