Stop for a moment to feel the air

grow colder, chilled by the rush of passersby

milling on steps, on escalators, staying

on the right to make way for those rushing

for the platform.  Take a step and listen

to the sound of footfall and the grind

of the train on the rail and the faint trill

of Mind the gap over the speakers.

Push between two teenagers stumbling

out onto the platform for Russell Square.

There’s little room on the Tube at this hour,

but squeeze yourself into a corner, wrap

your hand around the bar, and bear it as

more and more people crowd around you.

Some might have come from King’s Cross

(they keep luggage tucked protectively between

their knees as if anticipating the worst)

or perhaps they’re on the journey home tonight

(the woman next to you has mascara smudged

beneath her eyelids and a seated old man

is slumped forward onto his wrinkled palms).

The doors will shut behind with a mechanical hiss.

Sway with the lurch of the train as it departs, see

a girl holding her mother’s hand shift her footing.

The train twists and turns and tilts until brakes

squeal to a stop at Holborn, Covent Garden,

and, finally, Leicester Square.  The doors open

to a white-tiled wall, and here, the people move

faster, faster, faster, so pause in this moment

to watch the tide of bodies swell around you.

Wait to watch a group of girls sway concert-drunk

and tourists take selfies to post on Instagram,

men hovering next to their wives, children

swinging their feet in their seats while parents

shush them and apologize to those seated beside.

Wait here until the doors begin to hiss once more,

then you, an American in a country that isn’t

your own, step off the Tube and onto the platform,

careful to mind the gap.