a mother and her
kid play an unending game
involving face slaps.
June 2008
30 posts
he has a crossword
puzzle. i want to whisper
the answers to him.
she tucks a bag next
to her thigh. i glance and see
it holds a small dog.
she uses a loud
laptop, flourishing at the
end of each typed line.
he says, “you wanna
hurry up?” to his girlfriend,
walking down the aisle.
two hippies wearing
paisley and fringe wear simple
golden wedding bands.
she can’t choose where to
exit, and bounces back and
forth like a pinball.
she boards but doesn’t
pay. the driver yells back; a
stranger covers her.
the mother patiently
explains to her toddler how
many stops are left.
contrary to the
point of this, i’m sad when the
car isn’t all mine.
she reaches behind
to affectionately pat
herself on the butt.
i think i’ve fallen
in love at least twice so far
this thursday morning.
today’s ride is like
being in a clown car, for
more than one reason.
showing off his arm
tattoos, he says, “them shits ain’t
old. them shits is new.”
despite the fact that
we’re underground, she keeps on
trying to make calls.
a middle aged man
sits next to me. i regret
that day’s choice of skirt.
mom hits her kid for
no reason but moving. i wince.
she takes it in stride.
she methodically
tests all the rings on what i
guess is a new phone.
a preteen girl takes
better care of her brother
than some moms around.
i can’t believe the
lengths i’m going to see what
the cute boy’s reading.
