(no subject)
on the train. belly full of wine, and head intoxicated. I write feverishly, with handwriting so huge and messy, I barely make three words per line. A man points to the destination on the downtown E train.
To the World Trade Center
"Funny that it still goes there..."
I look at him. I am definately drunk.
"Not really funny," I say.
"No I guess not."
He looks half Asian. I think of Bohdi. I think of how much I miss Jaylene, and I am jealous of the warm Miami weather she is enjoying right now. We leave the E train. I run to catch the F train. He disappears.
The F train is waiting for me, so I run on, and plop down in the nearest empty seat. He is sitting in front of me. We smile and I pull out my journal. I do not want to talk to anyone.
To the World Trade Center
"Funny that it still goes there..."
I look at him. I am definately drunk.
"Not really funny," I say.
"No I guess not."
He looks half Asian. I think of Bohdi. I think of how much I miss Jaylene, and I am jealous of the warm Miami weather she is enjoying right now. We leave the E train. I run to catch the F train. He disappears.
The F train is waiting for me, so I run on, and plop down in the nearest empty seat. He is sitting in front of me. We smile and I pull out my journal. I do not want to talk to anyone.