i love the annoyed
collective scoff when the car
stops dead underground.
May 2008
31 posts
three teenage girls
pass a camera full of prom
pictures back and forth.
an old man wears a
daisy tucked into the band
of his fedora.
she hands her son - who
is in a jaw brace - a stick
of gum to chew on.
he sings to himself,
songs with choruses of, “that’s
how a bitch gets shot!”
“i love reruns of
seinfeld,” she says. four women
screech, “no soup for you!”
now and then i smell
fellow riders’ food, and crave
fried chicken, or ribs.
every boy with a
beard makes me think of my ex.
this means: many boys.
“i don’t know what to
say i believe in,” she says.
“jewish isn’t right.”
a tourist with a
southern drawl asks, “does this thing
go any faster?”
“let me off,” she cries,
turns, announces, “i’m going…
to the HOSPITAL!”
“yo,” she says gruffly,
and offers the young mother
a place to sit down.
taking a new line
is like visiting a new
city. i get lost.
the man brings a full
picnic aboard, and leaves a
whole trash mound behind.
there’s no polite way
to tell her i see her weave,
so i hold my tongue.
two women, spaced by
forty years, hold a long talk
on an aloe plant.
no number of signs
will teach people to step down
to leave the trolley.
he changes seats like
musical chairs, no seatmate
good enough for him.
she rushes in front
of me to board, then takes her
time getting inside.
i have terrible
etiquette; i wrap my arm
around the hand bar.
