This weekend a man playing classical guitar murmured something as I stood waiting for a train. He was looking right at me when he said it, so I figured it was directed at me.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I said you was the only one I was even thinkin’ about,” he answered.
“Oh.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t seem like the kind of conversation that I ought to pursue, so I stared down the tunnel to look for a train and hoped that would be the end of our encounter.
After a moment he began to play again, but then he suddenly stopped.
“Fuck this, I’m outta here,” he said, standing and working his guitar strap forward over his head. “Fuck you very much!” he announced to the platform. And then, just for good measure, “Fuck you!"
I looked over while he counted his change and packed up, and only then noticed his Dr. Seuss T-Shirt: Would you, could you, with a goat?
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