i am no stranger
to threats on the subway, but
singing is different.
April 2008
30 posts
“get your hand off my
fucking neck or i’ll break your
jaw,” the man hisses.
her legs curled under
her, she retreats into her
iPod, gazing off.
zipped to the nose in
her fur vest, she hibernates,
and no one wakes her.
she loudly phones her
friend, who can’t pick her up with
five minutes’ notice.
the turnstile won’t take
her dollar bills. with each try,
she seems more desperate.
he makes ample use
of the fact that their seats face
each other, and flirts.
she can’t get out of
her window seat, and coldly
says: “this. is. my. STOP.”
the woman on the
aisle refuses to move. “you’ll
just have to wait, dear.”
four teen girls travel,
same anxieties, laughs, and
bulging suitcases.
mom doesn’t stop her
kid from applying monkey
stickers to the seats.
“some artists would be
good investments,” she says. “…the
ones we can’t afford.”
the conductor turns
back. a small girl wails, “he won’t
take my ticket, mom!”
“sing a song!” he says
to the conductor. “nah; ‘less
you want barry white.”
i can just hear her
side of the conversation:
many “oh my GAWD!”s.
on reality television
“i’ll talk smack,” she says.
“i’ll fight. but i ain’t gonna
for no one’s camera.”
she says, “what?” he says,
“nothing!” they both giggle. and
the cycle repeats.
the group of college
girls discuss socialized health
care at great volume.
he offers me the
seat beside him, but will not
move to let me in.
she pushes out and
snarls, “well, don’t make things any
easier on me.”
