The MBTA and My PC are Slowing Me Down at All Times [February 9th | 38/365]

In the B train window, my reflection hasn't finished loading.
It's so easy to believe that the last outbound came just for you,
that your city is a computer program that just doesn't always run
as fast as you want. Spam is flashing across the dark parts of my face.

Darque Tan. Espresso
Royale. City
Convenience. Star-
bucks. Guitar
Center. Sunset
Grille.

Scrolling through Brookline, I feel a little proud
of being Jewish. We have such deep features, our eye sockets
fill with the night like syrup in a waffle. If I cried a little,
it would look like a painting. The other passengers
would tilt their heads for me, and I would see them looking
at my face, for the "x" in the top right corner.