Sircharlesthepoet

Legend has it:

When a New Yorker’s phone dies

And they seek to find

“My way back home”,
They kiss their ears with the sun-kissed pavement;

Concrete sidewalk,

And let their soul connect to the undergrounds:

The rushing, swivel

Tunnel.

Fetch for distinct sounds of 

Rumbling; Tumbling

Awakening,

Belonging; Life.
Follow all that noise–

A screetch known to be cultural

To the nearest train station.
In NYC, every train points Home.