Wild Ride To Coney Island

Life in the late Fifties
Was, well different.
On a Saturday, some four or five of us
Would head down the stairs
To the endless caverns
Of the NYC Subway System.

We’d wait for the “D” Train.
The “D”, was the express, and
After all, it was all about speed.
Our faces pushed against the window
Of the first car -
We’d ride the rails.

We’d get thrown back and forth
As the train gathered speed
And flew down the tracks
Bouncing as it navigated
Switch crossings and turns.

Stations would RIPPLE BY
In a blur
Of steel girders
And flashing lights
The horn blaring
The steel wheels squealing.

And then out of the dark
And into the sunlight
The wooden ties
Disappearing beneath us
Flying, faster and faster
And Finally, at the end,
Looming up large in our young eyes
The parachute jump, the roller coaster,
Coney Island.

Bill S. 03/28/07

Remembering what it was like
To be a kid in the Bronx