Everyday

A man moved

Away from me

On this train

And it made me feel bad. 

Do I smell bad?

Am I taking up too much space? 

Is my skirt too short - is he moving to see me better?

Am I giving off bad vibes?

Does he just want to be in a corner seat for better sleeping ability?

Was he reading over my shoulder 

As I wrote a different draft about

A different person

Hoping he wouldn't be singled out next?

I guess I’ll never know.

It's harder to write about things when you're happy. 

When you're happy your mind is calm

And not searching for something external to hold on to. 

October 11, 2015. 

My crew

Is a makeshift group

Of kids who walk alone

In fabric 

As dark as the pavement 

Of the road

We cross to go

To somewhere

Or nowhere.

We meet others there,

Also alone

(Somewhere or nowhere),

And talk about something

Or nothing.

And then we go home. 

We go home late enough

To not have to think about 

The something

Or the nothing 

Flying around our minds.

We sleep without dreams

In rooms not quite as dark 

As the fabric we wear

And the streets we cross

To go. 

We let lights peek in

Afraid of the dark

Of the something 

Or nothing

My twin and I face each other. 

Red hair glow

A strange camaraderie

I always feel.  

We're wearing blue chambray shirts

And the rest, black. 

(As always.)

Our sunglasses shade our pale eyes

From the unnatural florescents of the L train in the morning. 

There's not a lot to say about him

Because he's not giving 

Much energy to the space. 

I feel like my twin

Is judging me for looking at him. 

I know he's looking at me, but his sunglasses are darker, so he can see my eyes

And I can't see his. 

I know he's looking at me

But can only steal a glance

At him

Every once in awhile. 

We scratch our faces at the same time. 

He yawns. 

It's 10:24

Whenever I look at the clock

It's 10:24

My numbers. 

10 24

Ten twenty four. 

I am under the river at 10:24. 

There is an empty seat

But I am standing at 10:24

A man and a woman

Listen to music

Separately 

At 10:24

At 10:24pm

Im going home. 

The L train is going to Brooklyn at 10:24

More people than are worth counting are going to Brooklyn on the L train at 10:24

A woman is doing her makeup at 10:24pm

The Bedford light blinks at 10:24

I am 8 stops from home at 10:24

In a few days it will be 

10/24

And I will be

One year older

And probably looking at the clock 

At exactly this time 

2 girls sit on the subway platform

Out-bored-ing each other

Their voices

Dripping with 

"I don't care

More than you don't care"

Each word

Less passionate than the last

They talk about the past

People they used to know

Mutually agreeing upon 

Half-created facts 

"She looks so different now, she used to be TINY. And brunette." 

"She's still really thin."

"Oh. Mhmm."

They talk about reunions, 

Facebook, change. 

What's striking about this auditory passing of time?

They're stuck

And everyone else is moving. 

They're watching,

But nobody else cares anymore. 

~He's a pastor, his wife is "so sweet."

She's in chicago, she moved with her husband. 

He works in an office now. They always thought he'd do something with music. But it's hard to pay the bills with classical guitar.

Yea. ~

 They agree on this history 

Past, present

Lives no longer connected to their own 

They go to the gym in bushwick now,

Try to pay their bills,

Enter the L train at first avenue.

 Be disconnected from your body.

Don't do drugs. Drink coffee. 

Be as sad as you've ever felt before

Feel helpless. 

Lose a lover. 

Know she's still your soulmate. 

Walk down the stairs quickly because someone in front of you is doing the same

And there may be a train 

(But there isn't.)

You wait

 A train comes.

  In your car there are two people 

Look at them. 

There are many other people in this car

 But look at this man and this woman.

 The man has a mustache

The woman is wearing leggings and a long sleeve shirt that have different black-and-white patterns on them. 

Note that you like this. 

She is wearing mauve plastic Oxford shoes. 

Judge her for it [a little].

Look at the paper she is holding. 

It is familiar. 

It is a program

To a show

You've seen before. 

A show you almost went to. 

The Judson church is finally freed of its scaffolding

And free to be seen

In all of its beauty

For the first time

Since you've lived in New York. 

You forgot it was Monday 

So you didn't go. 

But they went. 

And your community 

Is sitting here on this train. 

A man with a mustache and a woman talking about change.

Artists

Dancers 

Makers

On this train. 

Walk home