he had been loudly staring at me
over his new york times
magazine section
for the duration
of the train ride

his trench coat was wet
so was i

that night
i would have remained seated
until the rockaways
to keep looking into his victor mature eyes

overcome with a case of
girl, you damn well know better
i ran through the doors
just before they closed
at the next stop
on the blue line

he stood against the glass
looking beautiful
betrayed

as i held fast to the thought

i have a friend close by
on utica avenue
who always wants to go for a drink
after a day of war

and she
never
gets me pregnant