he had been loudly staring at me
over his new york times
magazine section
for the duration
of the train ride
his trench coat was wet
so was i
that night
i would have remained seated
until the rockaways
to keep looking into his victor mature eyes
overcome with a case of
girl, you damn well know better
i ran through the doors
just before they closed
at the next stop
on the blue line
he stood against the glass
looking beautiful
betrayed
as i held fast to the thought
i have a friend close by
on utica avenue
who always wants to go for a drink
after a day of war
and she
never
gets me pregnant