A Subway Tale


Last night as the Q train screeched and clanked awkwardly back to Brooklyn,
Two young women inside were doing friendship to perfection.
Their voices, heard only by each other,
So obviously private
They really couldn’t hide it
(Not from the quiet guy)
As they shared secrets, dreams, or fears (who cares?)
Interspersed with wordless moments when
Each looked not into the other but straight ahead,
Examining an invented distance.

On their four feet, four of the very same shoes,
And only one small shopping bag between them.

She rested her head on the other’s shoulder for a spell.

This was a moment when I wanted my phone to let me text anyone I could see
Because, you see,
I wanted so badly to tell them how much I loved their friendship.
I did not want to trample on their tenderness,
Heavens no.

The car was quiet on its tracks.
My stop was fast approaching.

I rose from my seat.
I moved in close.
I faced them,
And I gave them that line above about texting anyone I could see,
The dark-haired girl kinda squinted.
She looked at me like I was ‘way out there.
She was very puzzled, oh-so-discreetly puzzled.
I said, “I really dig your friendship, the same shoes, the whole thing.”

They smiled.

We said our goodbyes as they left the car at the next stop.

About Russ Wollman

My feet are finally in the water, and I want to keep them there.
This entry was posted in Friends, Love, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to A Subway Tale

  1. Cristian Mihai says:

    Reblogged this on Cristian Mihai.

  2. Beautiful 🙂 I remember having those kind of friendships in university days when you were essentially the same person 🙂

  3. inprovisus says:

    Posts like this about the the CIty make me smile, I live there too and just riding the train is an endless inspiration into other peoples minds and lives. Very well done!

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