tonight’s the night
dead tired and starving
i pick neil young songs
over reading poems on the train home tonight
think of complex math problems
that i don’t want to solve
graphs and synthetic division
that my part-timer showed me
math never validated anything for me
except how stupid i am when it comes to figuring anything
out
the man across from me
he must be three hundred pounds
he’s dressed in royal blue from head to toe
he has his hood up and i can hear his music over mine
he’s eating an italian hero
pulling the meat and lettuce from the bread
with his hands and shoveling it all into his mouth
there are a ring of onions around his sneakers
and the train car smells of them
his royal blue sweatpants are streaked with grease
when he’s done he shoves the bread back into a plastic bag
then tosses it on the floor along with his can of sierra
mist
burps aloud
before closing his eyes and scratching his balls
i watch him
i think he’s like math to me
another problem that can’t be solved
watch his garbage roll around
i think tonight’s the night
where any grand illusions of mine
could simply end.
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