scenario

un.

i get on the train relieved that i only stood on the platform
for under a minute. as i walk through the threshold
of the train doors, i begin scanning the pews,
looking for any gaps. i see one. i sit.
while listening to busta's verse i follow through
with the routine of scanning the faces of my
fellow passengers. no one holds my attention,
so i look down and begin to study my hands.
on my right hand, i have a new scar. the dark blemish
is such a contrast against my brown skin.

"powerful impact BOOM from the cannon"

the song became my soundtrack...and BOOM
was the perfect onomatopoeia for what my eyes
saw next. perfect timing. dude next
to me had on light blue jeans and tims. all over
his pants and boots was blood. lots and lots of
real life blood. some areas were smeared, while other
sections just had drops.

well pam...it may not be blood. it could be paint.
no pam...that aint paint...that's blood.

my eyes traveled up his legs and met his
hands perfectly folded in his lap.
blood. blood. blood.
his hands were dyed red...and dried
blood was caked under his fingernails.
my huge hood interrupted my periphery,
so i only saw brown bloody hands, jeans,
and boots.

oh God.
God....is that blood?

i started looking around to see the faces in my
line of sight. does anyone see this?
is that blood?

"raaaarrrr roooaarrrr like a dungeon dragon"

i slowly pushed back my hood so i could see
who exactly is sitting beside me.
oh...its just a man.
nobody special.
looks just like anyone.
mad non descript.
a plain man...staring at nothing in particular.

okay. be smooth pam. be smooth. don't
be obvious. don't let him know that you know
that he is SUS! let your hood down slowly...
just be cool.

come onnnnn west 4th.
bells chime...doors open...and i hopped up.
i walked to the other end of the car.

damn. that was crazy.
i discreetly lean over to peep back down
the path i'd just walked. does he know,
i know? nah....you were cool.

deux..

cutie walks on the train. warm eyes,
beautiful skin, simple style....cute dude.
i look down before he sees me. canal street.
i lift my eyes, and he is staring at me.
i nod my head and smile.

in that instant...ol boy breaks out in
major choreography. huh? my whole
end of the car non verbally said HUH
in unison. eyes on pam...gettin it.
pop lockin, sliding around poles, playing
a pretend piano....huh?

drunk people are laughing and sober
people are acting like he doesn't exist.
the performance is for pam. eyes locked.

i then close my eyes. and after about 5 seconds
i bust out laughing. i am 60% embarrassed,
30 % surprised, and 10% tickled. i began
to shake my head while staring at my ipod in
my lap.

he is not amused by my reaction and turns
his back to me altogether. with himself as
his muse, he dances facing the door, using
the window as a mirror.

trois...

i am one stop from my destination.
sade has properly calmed me down, and
i am officially apart of the sober folk that
don't see anything.

my eyes are closed...and i feel something
happen. a swarm of people from my left
side all rush over to my right side.
i am now the only person in this section.
i see a man spitting on the train floor.

yuck.

train doors open...the man leaves.
drunk people are laughing and sober
people are looking disgusted. i look down
and i see a puddle of...ugh....oatmealy looking
stuff. ugh. (this is hard to write). but i really
want u to know...that my car was possessed...so
i will tell the whole story.

i then realize that there is one last person
sitting further down to my left. she was kneeling.
sis flings down her bookbag and literally throws
off her coat. (might i add, sis is MAD cute).
dancing man (my ex) practically glides
from the right side, makes "i am so done with you"
eye contact with me along the way, approaches her,
and puts his hand on her shoulder. HUH? she looks up and smiles.

HUH?
HUH?

okay. come onnnn nostrand...my brain is tired.

the train is slowing down.
sis is laughing...and screams..."does anyone have
a napkin?" the train erupts in laugher and she
smiles. dancing man is now holding her jacket...lifts
it up, and shows the chatty crowd all of the oatmeal-like
residue that landed directly on her jacket.

....

i would have quite possibly died. or fought.
definitely one of the two.

nostrand stop arrives.
i exit the train doors. turn off my ipod.
glance back at the window, and a man begins
to bang the glass to get my attention.
harder. harder. harder. i glance up, and he
is biting his lip and squinting his eyes.

hmmmm.

oh, nothing major. just mta by way of hell.