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Muni Poetry - Where's the T?

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This article is part of a poetry series dedicated to every Muni route in San Francisco. You can find the poet, Mc "Mack" Allen, on twitter at @that_mc.

Where’s the T?

The arrivals sign is a tease–
first ten, then nineteen,
and now thirty-three minutes
until the next train;
may as well be an eternity.
Even if it arrives empty
(no chance of that)
some among our esteemed
company won’t fit.
Try teaching patience
on this teeming platform.
Enmity begins to
precipitate amongst the fog-steeped
committee of commuters,
teeth grinding out tenths of a second,
their faces wet either with
dew or frustrated tears.
A steely-eyed graffiti writer
throws up a tag
Remember the 15?
on tempered glass while
two teens mug tough against
the team of office workers
trying covertly to
ratify a treaty that
guarantees themselves
a teeny space to stand
on the mysteriously delayed train.
If none of them
have the temerity
to steal a seat from
that dainty ninety year old
plenty won’t volunteer to
stay behind in her steed.
Though it’s a tolerant city (on TV)
civility is a pretty steep ask
Tuesday morning
at Twentieth and Third.


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