Yesterday evening on the train I tried to stay as still as possible. The car was packed as I made my way down the center aisle. I had gotten on three cars back, but kept following the woman in front of me from car to car. I wondered where would be good enough for her. She was making her way into the fourth car when I caught the eye of a young man in a collared shirt and dress pants. I had been looking at all of the men's eyes as I walked down the aisle. Some were tired, some were surprised to see a woman looking at them.
Something about this man made me want to sit down across the aisle from him. I tried to see what it was by looking at him, but there wasn't anything spectacular. He was playing Solitaire on his laptop and his collared shirt was the kind where only the collar is white and the rest is blue. I don't like those. He seemed annoyed by most things and I felt disappointed that I had followed that woman through all those cars just for this.

I was in Observer mode. As if I wasn't there, my face so placid and unflinching, accepting whatever might have happened. A bomb could have gone off and only an "Oh" would have escaped my lips.
I felt more like myself than I usually do, sitting on that train across from the grotesquely fat European woman. Her round painted face. Her stomach fat falling over the belt she had fashionably put around her waist.
I was in the last seat facing the entire car. I felt as if I were on display, but made it my task to meet everyone in the eye. The train started moving with groans and screams of metal chaffing metal. Two men got up and left the car because they said it was too heavy. I looked and wondered how much weight would have to be put on one side of the car for it to turn over.


On the PATH to Hoboken I held the metallic pole covered in germs, but was too tired to care. To my right two young pretty things held onto another pole and the third hand sharing space with theirs was pudgy and belonged to 20 something guy with a face full of character who really filled out his suit. His eyes were blue ... and shrunk back, as if to protect himself from me, when he caught me looking at him. He had a Whole Foods bag and a copy of Tuesdays With Morrie in his hand. He leafed through it semi-interestedly .. as you do when you know someone is watching you and you want them to know, somehow, that you are interested in books. That you read them, that you pour over their words, and go to sleep with their profound meanings.. letting those symbols and truths permeate your dreams.
He looked uncomfortable holding the pole with those girls. His ruddy Irish face tilted down to his book. I thought about how I would never read that book, but because he was reading it.. maybe it was worth looking at. I remember thinking "Hallmark" when I read the back of it once. Because I am so cynical. Because sometimes I overlook or reject pure-hearted/simplistically beautiful things. Things that other people find great joy in because they are not always looking for a pitfall or soemthing to sneer at. Because other people who enjoy these things are not afraid of having their heart warmed.
The PATH stopped and my 14th Street to Hoboken daydreaming was over. Everyone was standing by the doors waiting for them to open. They wouldn't open. How weird, people were muttering. I looked behind me and, funny thing, the other doors had opened instead. Maybe it was because I had already gotten to know him in my head, or pretended I did, but I let out a quick "Oh!" like when you solve a puzzle, squeezed the ruddy face guy's shoulder, smiled at him like we were sharing a joke together/just us, and pointed to the other door. He smiled too.