sunday the 14th

i'm texting
and the three guys
underneath the bridge
are making a drug transaction.

i pass them
like weeds in the cracks
of a sidewalk.
i pay attention enough
so that i don't bump into
one of them.

they move their necks
towards me,
about 40 feet away.

i'm harmless.
they get back to their job.

i'm on my way to the blueline,
for some date,
with some girl that
i'm a little less than
enthralled with,

but i'm bored.

i'm staring out the window,
thinking about a conversation
with frank,
about a girl i was once with.

i never noticed it,
but there is some asian guy
sitting in the seat
in front of me.

i meditate upon a tiny mole
on his neck.
i want to pluck the strand of hair
growing out of this abnormality,

and if i did,
it wouldn't matter
to him,
to the girl
standing up
in front of the car door,
waiting for to get off at clinton.

and in the bigger scheme of things,
none of this mattered,
i liked her friend better,
anyways,
and i decided to never call this girl
again.

the ride home was basically
the same, it's
only more people asleep
on the train,
just after it turns midnight.