Borderline

On the Bus in Queens

She tells me, The MTA is mafia. People don’t keep their receipts on
them metro cards. Stupids. Then the card don’t work, and whadyou
got? She’s speaking my language right now. My card don’t work,
right? I just tell the booth lady or whatever, and each time they give
you this envelope, right? “We’re sorry you’re card don’t work and
shit, here’s the form you got to mail.” But I don’t mail the form, right?
Cause they let you go through! Tricky though, right? ‘Cause you got to
remember who you hit already. I’m not walkin’ ten blocks to the next
station. In this neighborhood? Ha! So I flip the game on ‘em, right?
I gotta pull my hair up like this, or buy some sunglasses, or tawk
layeek thees. I tell ‘em “Iyeem frum Eengland eynd mayh cawrd iss
browkeen. Iyee juust ‘ate Ahmeareekah.” And the booth lady’s like,
“Awww, I’m sorry you’re having a bad visit.” ‘Cause I got my bag
wit’ me and shit, right? And I can’t be like, “Don’t feel bad booth
lady. I’m just tryna get on the train.” ‘Cause I’m tryna get the train,
right? These cards here are just too expensive. I gotta ask my husband
for money for more metros, but he don’t do shit. He just smokes weed.
Like that’s the only shit he do. He’s Dominican. He tells me his parents
are wiring him money, but then he just smokes weed! People think
that’s just some heroin shit. You can be addicted to weed. Like, I’ve
never seen anyone have more reasons to smoke. He’ll be like, “I gotta
smoke,” and I’m like, “Why?” and he’s like, “’Cause you just woke me
up!” “This dude just made me so mad, I gotta smoke.” “That girl’s
wearin’ jeans, I gotta smoke.” “Spring Break, I gotta smoke.” And he
ain’t even in school! It wasn’t enough a while ago, he started fuckin’
wit’ cocaine. I said, “You can’t do that in this house. Not around our
beautiful daughter.” Her name is Jaquelah. He’s better on that shit now,
and I love him. People tell me, “Why you ain’t leave him when you know
he ain’t shit?” It ain’t that they wrong, it’s jus’ they don’t know. You
can be right and not know at the same time, right? You see that dude
screamin’ in the front up there? She whispers, It’s crack. He’s from my
old neighborhood. Always in public decreein’ some shit. He needs to
decree some shit on his time. Stop decreein’ shit on MY time. It’s two
o’clock, I got a place to be. My husband’s twenty-five and don’t do shit.
I likes ‘em young though, right? I’m a cougar. Or like a cougarah. Can’t
fuck with the old ones, smellin’ like Ben-Gay and shit. Ha! I needs ‘em
with that stamina. You gettin’ on that train? That train ride so long you
get off a year older than you got on. Better have four books or some shit.
No train. Not for me. Not Thursdays. I’ll see you later though, baby.
And I say, “Yo, you know you’re a poet, right?” I think she thought
I said prophet. I know that’s true! I know that.