The subway overhead. The train passing over my conscientious, socially connected self.
My body amid the vibrations. Amid the passing bodies of others in the street, I stand in the human highway.
The girl in the cafe fidgets with the paper. She hesitates to read an article she never cared about anyway. She is nervous.
What she looks like when she is making love.
I wonder if I couldn't smooth out her restlessness with my hands on her bare back.
Her less nervous friend shows up. They do everything but hold hands.
This deviant standing at the cafe window.
My socially unacceptable stillness in the middle of the highway, my boss's anger at my lateness.
I do not ease her angst.