Monday, November 13, 2006

Loft Living

Skip a life completely.

I have reached my seat and the bus door is closed.
"She's Coming!"
A woman with a cane is persistently limping down the sidewalk.
The bus pulls away.
"SHE'S COMING!!" the man shouts again.
The bus stops, and the woman steps on.
"I know we're in a hurry," the man comments.
"Safety is the MTA's number one concern." He looks back at the woman sitting behind him and shakes her hand. "Am I right?"
At the next stop several people get on.
"Step on up and find your seat. We're in a hurry," he says.

Stuff it in a cup.

I've seen this guy before. The commentator. He calls all the stops with the flourish of a streetcar conductor of old. "Victory Boulevard, transfer here for line 164."
When the bus is crowded he calls, "Let'em on, Let'em on! Move to the back!"
As people move off-"Watch your step. Don't forget your belongings."

She said, Money is like us in time,

In between messages, he engages in conversations with his neighbors. They must be one way conversations, but he is such a great performer--leaning in close, eyes engaged--it looks like talk between intimate friends.

It lies, but can't stand up.

These bizarre Augenblicken of public closeness remind me of a stoned moment from the summer of '88 sitting on the roof of a loft in downtown Minneapolis. At the top of our voices we sang Lou Reed lyrics to yuppies walking in and out of a Sports Bar.

Down for you is up.

Competing to see who could hold the longest note, that night I had the lungs of an elephant.

Linger AAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH....ooooon!!!!!

The response from below was mixed. Most smiled and waved, but one guy, in an apparent effort to defend his ladyfriend from the serenade of strangers, looked up and shouted, "Shut the fuck up you Faggots!"
In our euphoria, we took this as encouragement. After all this was Minneapolis, where the night before we had visited the Disneyland of Gay Bars, "The 90s", which, on floor one, had both a male strip club and a disco, floor two, a piano bar, and floor three, a drag show.
"We love you too, Cutie!"

your pale blue eyes.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hey Fotsch. Saw your pal and mine, James, and his new baby Gabe. Your words still ring true, baby. Ring on, ring on.