Twister

I’m in downtown Pittsburgh
at 3:45.	
This boy has pushed this
girl into a
wall. His hood
has fallen heavily over his face
and she is jerking
her head to see if anyone is 
watching.
She soon spots mon amis et moi.
He is kissing her neck,
his back arching steadily.
She pushes him away again
lightly but 
he seems not to notice.

We pass them as we stroll through 
the infamous alleyway.
It is ripe with raccoon
eyed kids, sipping their
cigarettes.
They are trés ridiculous
so I laugh at them. 
I used to think you were one of 
them but you’re better than that. 
I once was friends with
the short one with the 
septum ring through her nose. 

On to the 61C.
Judy’s words are distant now.
I’m off in Russia.
They all have the same
close cut hair 
and grip the 
rail attached to the window.
The girl is sitting.
Her hair is quite American,
long and relaxed on the side
and short pixie bangs
in the front.
Her eyes are dusted 
with lavender shadow. 
When she begins to speak
Russian,
her features 
sharpen to me; eyes more distant, 
skin colder.
She looks very Russian
now 
and I love that. 
Her smile is foreign.
I will miss it.

urbanhairnarrative

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