jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


It’s an intensely crowded train to midtown and in the chaos I am just looking for a place to rest my eyes. There he is, stylishly dressed, good looking, that’s the place, and so I watch him. But he notices. And I watch as his gaze drops to my ringless hand, then to my face, and now he is eye flirting with me, catching me up with a little upturn of a smile. I’m up for fun this morning, so when a seat opens directly in front of him, I cut through to take it. Whatever he is listening to on his headphones has the same beat as what I am listening to on mine, and we are tapping our feet, head bobbing, to the same rhythm, we are aligning, vibrating like a pair of tuning forks. I am at eye-level and staring at his belt buckle and he knows it and we are making a considerable erotic charge. Now he is reaching into his front pocket…oh god, oh yes…feeling for his metanym…yes…now he is pulling it out…yes, please. It’s a mini shuffle. Oh no!


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