Beef

I perk to the tune of 2 brown men breaking
a sweat, 97° & the antique a/c’s wheezing
on the downtown express. it’s Sal & Mookie redux,
a borough up, a shade down. it’s: My Dude,
how you just gon squeeze me out my seat?
it’s: Looks like you got plenty of room to me.
they fold their bodies in: But listen, but listen—
eyes rolling, sighing, heated.

but that’s not what I’m saying, though.
I’ve been that close to strangers,
shared the sweaty air with one I’d love,
then soon forget. when I look up,
it’s you—already at the door, shaking your head:
But that’s not it at all. That’s not what I meant, at all.