"it's showtime"

it's showtime. started before i got on the train at 1st. "Next Stop, Bedford Ave." i step over a bag thrown in a corner of the closing door , a radio, small, resting against a pole. a young man and an older holdign a skateboards are in the midst of a pantomine. the mock of a fight. no words, ending with the gesture of of one brushing the cheeks of the other beofre ducking out one door and diving through another.

"Just listen to the song man!"

The man with the skateboard steps forward, lifting his shirt, placing his abs on display.

"whatcha playing at?"

"Get a job"

"What are you talkng about, man? Where are you from?"

"Leave that boy alone. Let him do his hustle man."

"You dont know what your talking about. A job. For men like me that's indentured servitude."

"don't do nothing son, all he's going to do is call the cops. you'll be wasting away in Rikers"

"just listen to the song man."

"Copcaller. copcaller. copcaller.I hate faggots like you."

Everyone is watching, the tension churring my stomach as others bury themselves further in their electronic magazines.

"You dont understand nothing."

A boy pulls him aside, mumbling as he extends his hand.

"I appreciate that i really do, i have to deal with this everyday, but thank you. I appreciate that."

"You best stay on this train copcaller. i'll beat you with your own skateboard."

the door opens and a flurry of 1000$ parkas exits.

"you'll be stabbed the minute you get off this train copcaaller. copcaller. copcaller."