Back to Reality

In the cold and early January mornings on the train from West Chester County there is a group of Union workers who board at Pelham station with their hats and coffee and they sit separate from each other and gesticulate crudely of their private lives and unfaithful desires, feigning amazement at the stories in the free paper for conversation sake and they have no awkward silence between them. And they sit there with their big thumbs and fresh hair like they've been up for hours and I cuddle the wall and watch, not with envy or admiration but for entertainment.