2 train, 72nd street to Fulton, February 10th, 2014
She smiled at me twice. I liked her instantly. “Would you like to sit down?” the woman next to me asked her. She hesitated then said, “OK.” She preferred to write in Spanish. Then she translated it herself. We spoke about our mothers.
Now that I have white hair
when I ride the train
people give me a seat
My hair is not white because of age
It’s because of the chemo