A morning after Moment in Time

Friday, November 20, 2009
Red Line northbound
8:30 a.m.

The good news
bad news
conundrum
and isn’t that Life really think about it
good news bad news yin yang negative positive
duality
good news yes there is that
bad news yes there is also that in equal
amounts

and some would have you think
in greater amounts

so
good news bad news
another Moment in Time, the good, there is
no
mention of jailbait…

the bad
it takes place on public transportation again haha! on the great underground roadways of LA
running up from Union Station North Hollywood
a wonderful snippet of the city as it roams northbound on
this early Friday morning
some people going to work
some people going shopping
some people going just going going
and
some
like the Hangover Kid
going home to sleep it looks like
and recover
and become human again
cuz right now, cuz, you are not human
you hop on around Wilshire or MacArthur Park maybe
sit in the sideways seat
reserved for elderly or disabled but it never makes a difference everyone sits on those but in your case you
might just be disabled today

what did you do dude?
you look like utter shit
wearing a print hoodie and semi-baggy jeans, sneakers, short short hair as if you tried the baldy look but stopped and now it’s growing back

You sit there
you carried on a nearly finished
bottle of one of those sweet and supposedly replenishing drinks an electric blue elixir but it’s nearly gone so
I guess
you drank most of it by now it’s sitting there swaying in
your stomach to the rhythm of the train as it winds its way
up through L.A.
and you catch my attention when you have your head in your hands and leaning forward and you keep sitting up, bending over to pick up the bottle but then you don’t drink, you just hold it, then
place it back on the floor, resume putting your head in your hands
and then
you do it again, you pick up that empty bottle
as if you are not sure if you want to drink any more or if you should and then you put
it back

and still holding your head in your hands
and you have
that big Bump
a fresh-looking bump
as if you just drove it off the lot all red and violet and throbbing
and you look haggard man
what kind
of night what kind of Thursday night
did you have??

And you scare me
you scare me for what you might do
because you look ill
and uncomfortable
and I’m ready to spring away if you begin to vomit. Oh pretty pretty please do not vomit
oh god
i cannot take vomit
for i have a phobia, a vomit Phobia. You know some people can faint on the sight of blood?
Well I can faint on the sight
and sound
of vomit. It’s a deeply strange psycho. problem of mine this vomit. And you
look like are close to vomit stage. The way you keep putting down
your head
in your hands as if agony of some sort
and you keep grabbing that bottle of magic blue potion
and putting it back down
and you’re fidgety and downright
sick looking

I’m so ready to flee this scene
but there
is nowhere to flee. We’re underground. The best
I can hope
is to flee this side of the car
and run to the other
but
I don’t. I can stick this out I know I can do it, a feat of psychological strength much-needed on my part to show
I can handle
the vomit god
and defy.

But I’m on edge man on edge and ready to run at the first sight of a shower of blue
squirting from your mouth. I can visualize it and
picture it and it’s this mental rehearsal that drives me crazier and makes
me tense and scared
and it’s just sick. What do they call vomit phobia? Anyone can
be vomiting, but You, you you you look like you’re close. You have a bump on your head and you are drinking hangover juice and you look like you need to pass out
and now you
keep bending in your seat and turning
and
in my jittery mind I’m convinced
you are looking for somewhere
to duck your head
for the moment
of puke. And I keep watching you from
the corner of my eye
and not looking directly because you are the Medusa of
vomit I cannot see that but if I glimpse it from the
side of my view I can
run
and you keep twisting in your seat. And leave that damn bottle alone just drink it or don’t oh lord. And I know my intuition is
UNCANNY when it comes to puke
uncanny I say.

I remember years ago years when I was young and my brother younger even and we
were driving back from Tijiuana. Ha! My parent’s station wagon, riding back, it was dark, him and me in the back
my brother sleeping because the
rear seat was folded down. I was laying there
awake.
My brother woke up.
I heard him stir.
And how is it.
I knew
I knew before he even started
I knew with no reason to think this
other than the sick
frightened sensation in my stomach
I knew he was going to vomit.
Psychic feeling.
And he did.
And suddenly as I watch you squirm in your seat with that big golf ball bump on your forehead I get
that sick intuition again. You’re going to puke damnit.
And I run. I jump out of my seat and walk to the other end of the car
and face away, out the door. So your little
uncomfortable show is out of my sight, it’s behind me. I don’t want to see I can’t…

At Hollywood and Western the train stops
I can’t look back at you
don’t can’t will not…

And your show passes me because there goes the Hangover Kid! walks past me, toward
the stairs up to street level…
Holding that bottle still
the blue potion
and you pass a couple of girls who are talking and one stops to glance at
you
and I wonder if she has any idea
the strife
you just caused aboard the train.