moved

so last night I moved.

i sat staring at lights from the back seat of the chinatown bus - behind the sleeping brown skinned man with locks who could have very well been someone famous. but it was late, and my ability to care was missing.

i wanted to write something to my biddi (that's what i call him) but nothing came to mind. I hadn't talked to him in what seemed like forever, so I had no new inspiration...at least nothing that would pop off the page and make him call or text me between his packing and hugging his people goodbye. see...he's moving, too.

I wanted to ask the asian lady three seats up if she could tell me how far mahattan was from my new newark townhome...but I knew she had no clue.

newark. newark is now going to be the place where sunday dinners occur. the place where the bed becomes crowded and the wine bottles fill the trash can.

I sat in the closest seat to the restroom hoping noone needed to shit bad enough to use it.

the sean john hoody across from me came hints of the man beneath it. had it not been for the weed and cherry blunt smell, he may have gone unnoticed. his bag strap was tied tight around his arm so he could sleep in peace.

he is formally educated on basic economics. whatever he carried in his bag would feed him for months, I hoped.

and between playing 'where's waldo' with the moon and checking for attractive faces within 5 feet of me, I could think of only my biddi.

I want him.

and the bridges came and left...

and newark was no longer just a thought.

last night...I moved