I sit stolidly

welcoming the cold steel seat

against my skin,

unmindful of

drenched commuters

about me.

I am impervious

to the rain

beating its fury on

the stretches of glass panes

that surround me.

I speed past buildings’ sorry faces,

rooftops and awnings,

terraces and window sills

all begging respite

from the heavy berating.

I imagine the pavement below

which by now

have just seem

to cease existence,

giving way to

a watery expanse.

Outside, I watch

the endless breadth of grey overhead

and realize

that this tempest

will eventually

catch up on me.

But for the moment,

until my station,

I am one with the metal bench

welded in the metal box

zipping on steel tracks

sitting on snaking concrete

towering the water world of a metro,

and I am invincible.

This was my supposed entry to the Tulaan sa Tren 2 which I wasn't able to officially submit. It came to mind when I heard of the stories of those who took refuge in the MRT/LRTs, the only formidable means of transpo, at the height of the recent vicious flooding.