Wedging into the L train. His stomach and mine fused. We look away. On the platform they look mournful. Next time, I think, next time let’s form a team and lift them over our heads into the extra space between our heads and the ceiling. I imagine them cozy and warm, finishing their night’s sleep, snuggling on gloved hands and wooley-hooded heads. Her bag raps insistantly on my leg. I grin at Dustin’s reflection, and the next car grins back at me.
{ 2007 02 15 }
Michael Repucci | 15-Feb-07 at 1:54 pm | Permalink
You know, sometimes I do think of the closeness as almost comfy. In our Puritanical US society, the unintentional touch of a stranger can feel comforting. But what a sad state that truly is.
Other times it sort of freaks me out. I get all agoraphobic and daydream about how many people there are on this planet and how insignificant we all are.