i got a gig

asian
overweight
she chews meaningfully on a ratty ziplog bag of animal crackers
i can't help thinking: what a rote treat to occupy lost subway time


5pm and the D is pockmarked with nightclubbers like
makeup on bad skin
manicured presentations
drowning in crafted dignity
haircuts: a fine overdose of it-factor
secure and insecure and secure
sinecures of the post-midnight landscape in
ambulatory preparation

these careful personas even wafting from
the rough'n'ready skaters who bumrush
eight orange seats and share the days philosophies
fistfights
neighborhood lore and the journalism
of the familiar bartered in animated
gossip around distant-eyed commuters
non-partying squares
myself

drifting out to a party in queens with
ragged strangers playing the part of
shadows of a former life i am
meditative
squashed against the windows a
manchild drifter

as the skaters exit some breathe easier grateful
away
from their dontgiveafuck

59th street is a disambiguation
grand human exchanges
the pack of chattering impeccable Guyana girls hustle
off to mysterious encumbrances in lovely
straightened hair and at
7th ave i hold the doors for five
strangers one of which
mentions it
and

in the camouflage of urban engagement i'm
a discreet unkempt itinerant
fraud
dancing between beeps and open doors

at the party i drink 7 beers and
sneak blow and
sing the lyrics to
one song