2 Train, 96th Street to Clark Street Station: February 12th, 2016
The train was full of poets. I couldn’t ask. They were spaced far apart and in their own world. Everyone except Kelsey, the bright spark on the train. He was on the opposite side, on the other end of the bench, and he was doing what we call in my family, “the train show.” He was asking his mother questions about the ride. He stood up and started doing the twist. At one point he fell a dreamy state while examining his juice bottle. I forced myself to get up, crossed the train and asked his mom. She said I could ask him. He said yes. He dictated and I wrote. After that encounter my day was happy. Very very happy.
My day was
a little bit happy
and my mom’s day
was a little bit sad
and happy
and they was mad
everyone’s day was
weird
My cousin’s day
was happy
and my babysitter’s
day was happy
and my dog was so mad
and my cat was so
ignoring me
and the cat itched my
face.