The City Is In Love

Even in the subway all they talk of is amore, amore!

By the ticket machine
a bag of clothing spills on the dirty concrete floor.
A young man pulls his rags out of the pile
while his chick yells at him.
“What?! As if I don’t know that you were chasing pussy?
And you had the cheek to call the police on me?!”
He, “Leave me alone in my misery, what pussy?!
Why are you stalking me?”
The girl goes on yelling.
He bitterly pulls out T-shirts.
People root for her, “That’s right, girl, tear him to shreds!”

On the subway on the chairs across from me,
two deaf girls converse very amused.
Vivacious, quick, quick they make signs with their hands,
a hole and an agitated finger in-out in-out,
a quickie like rabbits.

Two boys, one seated next to me, the other one standing.
‘Man, will you come to China with us?”
“I can’t, man. I barely got this job
and I have to work six months so I get unemployment.
But when are you leaving?”
“On August eighth. It’s gonna be great. Come with us!”
“I can’t, man.” He stares at a girl standing by.
Pigtails, dressed in a gray, long, tight gown.
He says, “Look how cool is this girl!”
He asks her if she doesn’t want to take his seat.
The girl smiles, says no, and turns her back on him,
Her dress clinging to her buttocks.
“Wow!” says the boy.
“She’s perfect! Perfect!”
“What perfect, man?” the other one tells him in the know.
“You like whoever has a good body.”
“But look at her, she’s perfect!
With this one, I’d fall in love totally! Totally!”
“Uhm,” laughs the other one, and I chime in.

I get off.
Well, well, the city is in love.