Trust is following someone through the NY city subway system

Into tunnels that only descend

through the stagnant air of a heat wave.

We don’t attempt deep breaths

happy for the small amount we can consume.

‘No,’ you say, ‘I’m sure this is a shortcut’

but we’re forced to backtrack and start over several times.

You re-check the map, whispering station names

a private prayer of navigation without the aid of stars.

Our reward is emerging into a rain storm

that drives New Yorkers into doorways

destroys your shoes

soaks us so thoroughly water streams along your hallway.

Puddles form as we stand

still, if only for a moment.