why i did this project
i get where i need
to, but paying attention
will take me further.
January 2008
31 posts
he startles awake
and looks terrified not to
know where he’s going.
“he beat the shit out
of reg,” she says, and adds, “but
just ‘cause he was drunk.”
claustrophobia
was foreign to me ‘til you
squished me to the wall.
i like the resolve
of one who farts and pretends
not to have done so.
she glances at the
window, sees her reflection
in the nothingness.
his sketchbook spills off
his lap, holding the weight of
future building walls.
despite the swerves and
chugs, she raises on pointe like
a ballerina.
nothing sadder than
a couple who sit, and stare
ahead, not speaking.
boy in a lip ring
pouts and nibbles, pouts again,
not used to its feel.
rush hour crowd and two
preteen girls stumble on. “i
feel cluttered,” one says.
her hair is waxed and
pinned to look like a birdcage.
let me out, i think.
on the phone: “i had
a dream he was ready to
accept jesus, yo.”
the thing about the
trolley is you need to be
awake to ride it.
the boy tries to make
even sneezes sound thuggish,
and it’s kind of cute.
old man, hand shaking,
grasps a carnation, wrapped in
plastic, for his wife.
you let me take your
chair, and i want to thank you
for the body heat.
you miss the trolley
and flip the driver off. he
can’t see, and drives on.
boards with a toddler;
restrains him; gets off, next stop.
i’d be that tired too.
red hair, brown eyes, your
vacant stare; enactment of
dissatisfaction.
