March 2012
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“She tries to drown my thoughts, like kittens.”
– Anatole Broyard, Kafka Was the Rage
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This happened last week.
I get on the A train at midnight, post-show, and get the seat I want by the door, on the end.
And I see a boy on the other side and my first thought is that he’s cute – that kind of ragtag Brooklyn boy with a beard and a backpack heading downtown after hanging out with friends in Inwood, Washington Heights, the Bronx. The far reaches. I like how he looks, how his eyes have a fierce, dark...
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