194
She is self-enclosed.
She rode the el
Mindless of the track
The parallel steel; her hair
Wind-drawn now on the platform,
Blurs her gaze over the shops
And yellow outposts
On the sidewalk of 200th street.
Indifferent in, amidst a murder of
Rooks--spectral and callous teamed--
Ether she is there, absent,
Yet the steps walk down to the street.