Rough Commute

I never intended to walk Market St
at 7 pm in December.
They closed down two stations I needed, to meet
the train to cross the bay.
I paced on to Franklin on confident feet,
but then I began to remember
the instinct evasive to beat a retreat
from clots of black and gray.
I clattered down the stairs beneath Van Ness,
my sidewalk no an underground oh yes.

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