1:30 AM The Subway

I am sandwiched between a man and a woman who are making out. They speak a language to each other that I don’t recognize -- Isreali or Russian. They are young and their faces are perfect: shining, white, hairless. Their eyes match: they are the same light brown, the same sleepy, smiling shape. The woman’s long yellow curls brush my lap as she leans over me. The man pulls the hair back away from from her neck and whispers something. Her ear is inches from my lips. It is so clean and empty, but still it glows with soft grey light. I think she can feel my breath. As I hear their kisses -- wet snaps, the clink of teeth meeting, breath catching and letting go loudly, slowly -- I know, finally, that we are over.