Sunday, July 22, 2007

Now it is my turn. Now it is your turn.

We were standing not far from each other on the train. He was in his twenties, a good-looking Jewish man. I have a soft spot for Jewish men, a Jewophile, if may be curt about it. We faced each other even though it was not necessary to do so. This happens often on the trains. You get on and subconsciously look around, in an attempt to make eye contact with an accomplice, or maybe a comrade. It must be the fail safe in us all, expecting a disaster, and in such close proximity to other people, that person you make eye contact with for a split second when you get on is the person you will go to when you find your self in the middle of a major electrical failure, leaving you trapped, in the dark, below the surface, with the unsafe others. Once you make that initial eye contact, you are maybe not so very much alone for time time being.

I could feel him watching me. I waited until I could see in my periphery that he was looking at someone or something else. Then it was my turn to look again. Then it was his. Then it was mine. Then sooner or later it was his again.

We wanted to talk to each other, these things can be very clear. But we do not. That is against the rules.

The train surfaces for a short while. It leaves the tunnel to cross the bridge into Manhattan. The sun was setting and all of us who were standing pivoted our bodies to look out the window at the bay. At pier 17. Its a lovely view when it is blushing outside. We all look together. Then we go under again. Satisfied that the world still exists and begin again to look around for our fail safe companion.

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Lately I have been filling quite a bit of my time reading Noah Cicero's {check this existential shit, yo} blog, anxiously awaiting the next installment of 390 miles (a blog novel). Please take some time and go read it. It is lovely.

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