A Noon Sun sets over Jamaica Plains as the F-Train rocks
its way to The Village.
I sit quietly with a large seductive bag between my knees
and survey the Burroughsian landscape.
Then I look up and check my companions:
To my left is the slave boy from The Satyricon and to my right
is Marnie from the Birds.
The woman across from me shoots a bright Diana Ross sort of smile.
The E-Train screams to a halt and I quickly sing my farewells.