trip

Alright, so this is how it works right? I say "go", and you just come with me. Whoosh. No questions asked.


Are you ready?



GO!


We're running along the subway station, keep up with me now, our train line isn't running today because they have to do all their fucking construction work on weekends, and we have to have fucking class on Saturday mornings. So we're running, through the platform, up the stairs, into the adjacent station with some other lines that would take us as far as Manhattan. We'll have to change trains in a bit, but we'll deal with that later. Our legs are still sore from doing that stupid task in class two days ago, remember? When we curled over and couldn't move? We vow to hit the gym when there's a smidgen of free time, but too late for that now, we're running. The 3/4 hour we set aside for getting to school today is fast running out, and there's a test this morning. A test we didn't study for, hoping that the remnants of our high school smarts would stick, hoping that there's enough of first year linguistics knowledge from five years ago rattling around in there to tide you over until it's done. The 4 train is awfully cozy, we can feel the man behind us softly pressing his hand into our thigh. Shakes it off, shake it off. It's the subway squeeze, we've dealt with much worse. It's an express train and it won't take us where we want it to. Shit, fuck, fuck. Change tracks. More running. Wish we could just stick some fucking vurt feather down our throat and ride it out. Some sexy pink pornovurt. And then we're gone.

We start with a smell. It's dark and you can sense a body lying near you. Soap and toothpaste. There's the faint warmth of the skin but there's still a lot of distance, fingertip to fingertip. We're waiting for a cue, not sure where to begin. The stench of old pain weighs heavy. Our eyes adjust to the darkness, we can make out shapes under the covers. It's a cold night, but funny, we've sweated through. There is movement towards us. The sleeping form inches closer by minute degrees. We're bracing ourselves, letting the tingling in our lips and fingers build up to that old warm fuzzy. The sheets are twisting under maneuvering limbs and torsos. The clamping of jaws, the smacking of saliva. We connect hungrily trying to take something, anything to fill a gap somewhere between our ribs.

We're back in that subway station, crossing platforms, bypassing buskers. The sounds of some Mexican mariachi band clashing with a lone Er-Hu. A bouquet of noise combined with the screeching of wheels on tracks creates a constant buzz around our heads. We're seriously running late now, and we're one more train and two stops away. There's a missed call on our mobile from another girl in our class, oh good, she must be late too. The smell of street vended coffee slaps us in the face as we step out onto the street. Fumbling into our bags looking for our ID tag, cursing the over sized handbag for swallowing all its contents so completely. Right. Breathe. We slip into the stream of the day. The hollowness follows us around, class to class, room to room. But we're alright, the safety of routine covers up our bloodshot eyes and the cloud of complaints above our heads. Ride it out, just make it to the other end of the day and we're home safe.