Mae Fraser: "red line"

red line 

the train car’s seats remind me
of my childhood bowling alley.
rainbows of curves overlapping
woven dark gray carpets
—very 80s, very retro-chic --
the kind that glows under black light
and mirrored disco balls.
the vibrations from wheels churning
hum early 2000s pop tunes
as the conductor (a featured artist)
tells us our next stop
—MIT, we can exit out the left--
but I’m still watching the benches
empty and fill in swirls of colors.
with every stop, Taio Cruz’s Dynamite
interrupts light chatter from other patrons,
my bowling shoes —too big for my feet--
tap against the makeshift dance floor
trying to match the beat of mechanical clicking
to Pocketful of Sunshine, Poker Face, or
some song I was too young
or too forgetful to know the name of.
I would spin and twist, body swaying
as the train takes another tight turn,
singing along to whatever song played next,
waiting for my stop at Park Street,
the sounds of Boston traffic calling out.
it sounds like my parents telling me it's time to let go
—let go of this vibrant euphoria--
but i’m not ready to go.
I want to stay on the railroad tracks
embraced by the warmth of the lights
and the sounds of the train-like bowling ball return
that allow me to relive these moments
over and over again. 

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Your favorite poet’s least favorite poet Mae Fraser (any pronouns) combines humor, trauma, body horror, and hopeless romanticism into poems that they hope you won’t forget. Their work can be found or is forthcoming in Gyroscope Review, LEVITATE, The Northeast Coast, and more. Their first chapbook, PEOPLE PLEASER APOLOGIZES FOR PEOPLE PLEASING, is currently in the querying phase. A recent Manchester, NH transplant, Mae can be found with a book in hand in a cafe or online @maeflowerreads.