….on down underground, like the metro do. When we head from West Cold Spring towards Mondawmin and everyone on the train talking on their cell phones say, “I’m about to go underground, I’ll call you back when I get to….hello?” And the train, like thunder, slips underground and the screams that it gives off in the tunnel……bitch we bout ta be like that. These pains and quixotic days, long elaborate daydreams and not so unicorn thoughts are all about to melt in the screams the way we slip around dark tunnels underground.
Social media signals are going to go out. Fuckas won’t be able to find me. Underground, under the radar, off the map, off the grid. But like metro - them bitches gon’ go on about they lives. Listen: they ain’t gonna think twice about you. They’ll call, leave voicemail messages, and then KNOW that you’ll call back. They’ll send texts and know that you’re around. They’ll take your life, your responses, your who you are for granted and never give a considerate fuck about where you are.
And when there’s that delay when the train won’t budge, that’s where your tarrying will take place. That’s where your ah ha moment will be. And you’ll find yourself slowly rising up escalators on some shit like GW/Foggy Bottom or Charles Center. It’ll be real slow and dramatic. And when you come from underground you’ll find yourself in a different place. Not rushed. Smartphone can’t find a signal that quick. And the silence and sounds will be like Mother Nature’s Urban Sister’s Mass choir. And you’ll be different.
And you can always get back to all those thirsty motherfuckers when you get time. When you feel like it.
And that’s okay.