“Stand Clear of the Closing Doors”
Jul 04, 2019Pink sand pail.
Girl in black, Vans Old School high tops, leg twitching, she’s rocking out to the sound of chatter. She’s freaking out, wants off the train, when will this ride be over.
Blue green pigtails. She’s falling asleep. Looks at her boyfriend, smiles, gives him a kiss, closes her eyes, and dreams of being in bed.
Pinstripes. He’s pressed against the rail. Eyes wide and manic. Don’t break the sunglasses. Fuck, door is opening. Just got comfortable.
Muscles, bulging through tight shirt. Beard trimmed. Beats blasting into ear canals. Can’t hear any of these weak fools.
Pink shirt, flip flops, staring at her daughter’s pink pail. Good day down at Rockaway. This is summer.
14th Street. It’s not emptying. It’s been a long day, a long night. Happy birthday, ‘Murica. You’ve treated us well and now it’s time for sleep.
“Stand clear of the doors, please.”
Some people just don’t get it. No patience. Want to get home. But no patience to let the man get you home.
Going uptown. Showered last night. Just washed hair yesterday. 23rd Street. If you wanna get off, get off.
“Passengers, please...Next stop is 34th.”
“It was weird. It just stopped.”
“Why not just walk all the way up?”
And they all went along, trying to get home. Trying to not rub off the makeup. Remembering they had fun. Not just sardines.
“Coming out.”
“Stand clear of the doors, please.”
“The other white girl? Didn’t know she was drunk.”
“All the way in, please.”
“That’s an embarassment to the group.”
“They just call her Lolita.”
They all sleep. They sleep and they get home. The subway man gets them home. He wants to run the train off the tracks, but he has too good of a heart. So he just insists they move out of the doorway. He will get himself home, eventually, and will take a shot of tequila before kissing his wife goodnight.
“Stand clear of the door, please.”
*Stand clear of the closing doors*