on the subway

He’s standing by the doors as we cross over the bridge in the morning’s clear light. He’s wiry and unshaven. He looks at me just a beat too long. Then his gaze drifts back to his girlfriend, her back is to me. She tugs a hank of her long dark hair. He shrugs, and raises a flat hand to the level of her chin. He wants to change her. She shakes her head. They’ve been holding hands but now he drops hers and turns back to the view of the wide river. She keeps looking at him as he rests his temple on the glass and watches the blue girders of the bridge flash by. She puts her fingers on his chest, and getting no response she settles back. He looks at me again, his eyes say: it would be different if it was you. But he is wrong. Who among us is happy?

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5 Responses to “on the subway”


  1. 1 David Gray October 7, 2008 at 11:16 am

    I am happy. I also have joy.

  2. 2 Joe Edelman October 7, 2008 at 12:40 pm

    It is amazing, the way we play these roles in other people’s lives. These placeholders. A vast, beautiful, and lonely dance.

  3. 3 accrobyte October 7, 2008 at 10:32 pm

    i so appreciate your way to tell and share. visual though reaching deep, factual though poetic.
    beautiful.
    i turn into being a dayly reader. thank you.

  4. 5 TdC October 13, 2008 at 9:33 am

    We all get what we don’t have. We always imagine that the stories of the rest are better, sweeter, happier. I like the end of your story with no concession to reader,who expects always happy endings.Beautiful.


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