the commute home j. faith malicdem
i walk to Boylston inbound to transfer to Park Street so i don’t have to walk up the dark downtown street on my way home it’s a routine. i’m alone, so it’s a no brainer. i tally up the times i felt my ears perked up in class today. and how many times they grew hot. one of my best friends tells me i have a glimmer in my eye, and that’s why i get called on often, because i always look like i have something to say. when in reality, i’ve there are only complaints shooting up from the stem of my brain and straight into my amygdala when i make it to the red line, i stand near the foot of the staircase, ten feet away from the yellow line between awaiting passengers and the train tracks i just want to go home. i wonder if this conductor will slow down when they pull into the station, and when they do, i wonder if they do it for people who look like me. it’s a routine. i’m an asian woman, so it’s a no brainer. “Pink in the Night” plays into my right ear, and my right ear only, so i can be aware of my surroundings, just like my dad always said.
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