She’ll Drive a Big Car

Oh God how I hate the motherf@#$ing B. (For those of tuning in from a safe distance from Boston, the B is a hulking, train-like object that crawls down the street crammed with the dense folk that populate Boston University). I thought it was bad in the summer, all those chunky college girls in low slung spare-tire-pushup pants. Rolling bare guts everywhere. When I got a seat they would surround me at eye level. I felt like I was trapped ina bag of marshmallows.

Oh but winter promises a crushing of the soul. The morning train is packed and its all elbows and humongous backpacks and cellphones. It fills me with hatred for my fellow humans. It laces my inner monologue with a frenzy of “motherf@#$er” I take deep breaths- its not their fault they are two human sizes too large and they have to read Lord of the Rings with their elbows planted in the small of my back. Of course one must flip their waist length hair with one’s hands, even if it lashes into my eyes and mouth.

I wish I were a Woodsman by trade. Then I could board the train with an axe slung over my shoulder (and a jaunty feathered cap!)

I took a taxi twice this week. What bliss! I sail into work on time with well-groomed fingernails and a broad smile. I talk to Greeks, Haitians, Dominicans, Trinidadians. We laugh and agree that life is short so fuck it. I admire the skyline, I tip well.

I can’t help it that I was also born a human, but I just can’t take Satan’s Herd!


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