a ride uptown.

the girl with the strange glasses sits directly across from me. sandwiched between two whole food's totes and reading bill bryson.

to her right is a beautiful indian woman with a man far too old for her. is this a date? is that a faint smile of adoration or despair?

in the crook of the doorway is a man sleeping standing up. his face pressed unnaturally against the subway window. he drops his soda can. then opens it. makes no motion to wipe the fizz from his puffy winter vest. sleep resumes. now the open soda can falls. he is slow to recover and an unnatural torrent of coca-cola makes its way across the car's floor.

the indian woman nudges the woman with the strange glasses. indicates she should mover her grocery sacks. bill bryson in hand the woman with in glasses migrates further into the subway car. the indian woman and {her date?} follow suit.

the man with the coke drinks what remains in the can. he doesn't care.

and train hurtles on, all of us in tow, past 168th street.