Love Song

It’s a school day in winter and a bundled up child on the train announces in perfect sync with the conductor to Stan clear the closin doors, next stop one hundred twenny- fif street. Mama is thick lipsticked wildeyed and earplugged, bopping her weaved head to and fro, singing a scratchy rendition of a love song. There is no room for harmony and mama throws mean eyebrows and laser eyes like a dart gun telling the conductor in training to Shut the fuck up which he does and Move the fuck over making way for an old black granny who hesitates but cooperates as a good seat in the city is hard to come by. With granny’s butt as a buffer, mama fluffs up her faux fur jacket, still growling and howling her song and throwing her homicidal eyes at the other end of granny where the conductor in training draws faces on the window with a single index finger applied in his mouth over and over again. Crack cocaine does no good for a well rooted potty mouth. The artist in training stops what he’s fuckin doin and gets the fuck up, follows mama out of the opening doors, skipping to the beat of mama’s scratchy voice.