text: I thought of you when the subway was too slow. As we were moving I think the tunnel must’ve been too small for the train because the sides scraped up against the walls and made the whole thing screech and sputter out. It was all very cat like. There was a man sitting on one of the seats up against the door at the rear of the car. He was sleeping the entire ride until we slowed down and then instantly perked up. He started shouting about how he was in a rush. How the governor was too damn busy suckling on the teets of the 1% who didn’t ride the subway to actually give a care about the city. About him, the man. About all of us. The train slowed down and he woke up as if he’d been awake the whole time, perched right in front of the car doors waiting to leap out onto the platform when the time came. I thought about that time some number of months ago on the subway. We were riding it together. It was dead cold outside, the kind that really nips at your pores, but on the train you were sweating. You were complaining about how you couldn’t get your coat off because the car was too packed. We were huddled right next to each other, holding onto the same pole, a tiny lady with a pink beanie pressed up against your chest and a lumbering man’s armpit hovering inches from my nose. We shared headphones, like all subway couples do, listening to a song that I wouldn’t be able to listen to again when you left. I should’ve known then that it would be unbearable to hear later. You can hear the grief in between the notes. When the train slowed down, you looked down at me, I up at you, and you winced like it was your fault. I didn’t mind though. I was up against you, ear to shoulder. For you the whole thing was too hot but for me it was perfectly warm. I thought of you again, in almost the same moment, when the subway completely stopped. It screeched and scraped and did what all metal boxes do when they rub up against something. But then the wailing stopped. It all stopped. The lights went out. The air conditioning turned off. It was nothing but humid darkness. Have you ever noticed what happens to sound when the lights suddenly turn off? It’s like everyone comes to the same conclusion: when the lights go out, the world goes out. Everyone’s breath catches, just for a moment. The yelling man stopped yelling, like he had been unplugged. It must have something to do with biology. One of our feeble senses is removed and everything else is kicked into 12th gear. I know I’m not making any truly profound statements. You always reminded me of that- how my thoughts only sound interesting because of the way they’re organized. But you were never very profound, either. One year ago we were again on the subway. It was the 4/5. I told you we should probably hop on the A train but you said that if we took the 4/5 we were more likely to get a newer train, one with air conditioning. You said that since the 4/5 runs through the upper east side the trains would naturally be nicer. More hospitable. The one that we got on was old, ancient even, and it wasn’t air conditioned. The air wasn’t thick, it was heavy. It was pressurized. We skitted by each station, making perfect time, and then suddenly, two stops away from where we were going, we came to a halt. In the middle of the tunnel. The P.A cracked on and told us we were experiencing heavy traffic, but we should be moving again shortly. Traffic? you said. Traffic? On the subway? I will never understand how they could possibly use *traffic* as an excuse for subway delays. Does that make any sense to you at all? Crazy, how they think they can fool us. And then you laughed. I laughed with you, closed my eyes and chuckled with my forehead on your shoulder. I didn’t find what you said very funny or interesting at all. But that’s just it. I loved you so I bought into it anyway. I loved you. And all you had for me was advice. And good music that isn’t good anymore. And complaints about everything and anything related to a subway. I hated when you complained about the subway. Because, I love the subway. It’s moving now.