Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Late night rain

I missed the bus tonight or, rather, I misread the schedule and thought that there was one between 9:30 and 10:30 that did not exist. I contemplated, upon finally getting the schedule on my crackberry, heading back to the bar and flirting with that guy, but I decided to stick it out in the damp almost-cold of post-happy-hour New York.

Instead, I'm listening to the rain on the roof of the bus shelter and on the street, contemplating whether it's appropriate to trust certain people, wondering why it is that I'm not invited some where tonight and yet knowing why. I should just work when I get home, I shouldn't curl up into the ball I want to curl up in and let it all matter too much but, oh, God, I want it to matter. I want to hide. I want it to matter more than the waves the humidity is imparting to my hair, or the numbness my toes are starting to not-feel, or the unadulterated breeze on the spot where I inadvertently ripped my stockings, or the fact that there is still no bus coming down this dark street.

2 comments:

ARman said...

Brilliant.

Scott Lemieux said...

Your bus will come in soon enough...