Thursday, February 17, 2005

I saw two men on the subway yesterday night and they were funny.

Tall and skinny fellow was sitting erect, eyes boggling and poring over the faded magazine, folded legs with shined boots caressing the grimy floor. Eyes sliding left to right in their slitted grooves, their rapid fire intensity accentuated the the burrowed eyebrows, creased into the deep crevasses of his broad forehead, glinting pale underneath the glowering subway lights.

One empty seat away slouched Tall and Skinny'sTweedle-dum. His red sweatshirt folded over a rotund belly that gasped for air and a pair of jeans scruffed and muddied. Slackened jaw. His eyes that stared at nothing, at the millions of nobodies that stood in the empty possibilities of the swaying car, at the instant replay of his uneventful day and the tired night that was to come, at the walls of New York expectations come crumbling down and the thousand of voices from a fed up generation of rabble rousers, rising up against the dull mediocrity of a conventional life. Hair like wheat matted over and legs splayed out.

Oh the delirousness of a hazed-induced New Yorked night.

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