q33 to jackson heights
the clamor of airline employees leaving their shift fills my bus. a group of men fills the seats around me and they chatter in an unknown language. they're pakistani, maybe? A large, boisterous woman with an unidentifiable accent sits beside me, her calf and thigh pressed firmly against my own. anywhere else this would be an intimate moment; here, it just is.
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I am a vistor here; I am not permanent.
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I am a vistor here; I am not permanent.
random bits cobbled together by j-dub
2 Comments:
I object to being characterized as boisterous.
she had a baby cow on the bus? nyc's becoming more like rural india every day.
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