Riding the L

11:56 PM.
Hunting vest and briefcase.
Red faced from the smack of the wind.

Gliding clear of the closing doors,
“United we stand” sticker screaming louder
Than Hungarian accent.

Arts section and weather report.
Nothing else of interest.


Even with ears larger than fists
Held tight
Knuckles white.
They bleed unto into onto
That glance.

Three times my age,
Please, look away.

There is nothing of interest here.