Red Line, 3:00 A.M. (Another Attempt at Being Missed in a City Too Large, Too Lonely) I am not drunk, though I should be. We are the only ones in our car of the train, though we shouldn’t be. I don’t know your name, but I want to. Your hand creeps up my skirt; I let it. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. The intensity, the anonymity, the random chance of it all brings my sweet gasp sooner than I anticipated, though I should have. Your smile is knowing, though it shouldn’t be. I exit one stop too soon, walk home down the middle of the deserted street, though I know the danger of such choices. Tomorrow I will look at the missed connections section yet again; I will be disappointed, though I shouldn’t be.
AFTER THE PAUSE VOLUME 2 ISSUE 1
The fall issue includes experimental poetry, flash fiction, art, and visual poetry from 28 incredible, global artists.