i have given a lot to bart, over all these years

at least $6.10 a day, five days a week, four weeks a month

my bodily fluids including some blood and barf

and something else 

that’s harder to name  

blood from the injury i sustained 

in summer 2016

on the daly city station escalator

going up 

i was wearing sandals

and cut the underneath of my big toe

and another time in october, a few years later

running into the station at 24th street

my train coming and i have to pee

when i slip on a wet escalator 

in my brand new rain boots

and slice open my knee 

on the sharp-toothed stair edge

my shins are scratched open

a dribble of blood runs down my leg 

and fat red drops drip onto my green rain boot

i ask the station agent for a band aid

and stick it to the outside of my ripped stockings

and limp home 

later i go to the emergency room, kaiser on geary

the nurses superglue my knee back together

they give me a tetanus shot 

and an x-ray that cost $100

the whole time they called me sunshine 

the first time i threw up on bart

i was nineteen with my boyfriend then

and i smoked too much weed at a punk show

at first at macarthur station i had the decency to leave the train 

and barf on the platform 

but i couldn’t hold it on the train anymore

and after a few more heaves

another passenger (or an angel)

made sure i was well enough 

to go home with the guy i was with

he said he had little sisters 

and would want someone 

to keep an eye on them

another time i threw up on bart

i had spaghetti and wine for dinner

then beer

i threw up long, whole noodles

they squiggled around in my stomach liquid on the train floor 

clayton looked down between his legs, shook his head at me 

and suggested i chew my food a little more 

once when i got on bart 

i head to the next car 

searching for an open seat 

as i get to the doors at the end of the car, 

and pull them open to the roaring sound of the tunnel

the screeching tracks and rushing wind

i look to my left 

at the last backward facing row

to the man nodding off

when i see next to him ripped open

an orange garbage bag with the biohazard triangle 

inside, a cornucopia of syringes 

one still pricked in the crook of his arm

asleep

another time 

i rode the escalator up 

from the dark underground

to the bright light at the top 

24th street

where a man’s passed out 

splayed on the ground

his pants loose and no underwear

just the head of his soft pink penis 

poking out 

sleeping too 

sometimes the trains have the sweaty penny smell of burnt foil

and they always smell like beer breath on the night of a hot day

especially if it’s a saturday or pride or st patricks day or stupid ass santa con 

or after a warriors game when they won and all the passengers are happy

or after the opera or Hamilton and everyone is old

their pale white hands tightly roll their programs

and at glen park they all say goodbye

when i get on the train 

i walk car to car to get a good seat

and through the door i see 

the next car is empty

but when i slide the doors open

i realize why

as my eyes widen and squint

and my hair stands up

and i stop breathing

and close my nose 

as i approach

the laying down, sleeping, stinking man

with little square feet so black with dirt 

at first i thought they were shoes

and as i hold my breath 

i make a wish

god bless him, get his rest

and i take a seat in the next car crowded

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