cockroach
by m.w.
 |
It was raining, pouring. I got a seat at 14th St. on the uptown no. 1 and bury my face in a book. At 42d St. a bunch of people squeeze on, and a very spiffy woman is wedged in front of me, holding an umbrella in front of her midriff inches from my face.
Since I don't feel like staring at her breasts or other regions out of basic courtesy, I focus on the umbrella, and to my horror a king-size cockroach clambers out and quickly makes its way toward the front of her skirt. I'm tempted to swat it, which would've been easy, but obviously I can't, so I stare at it in mute disgust, with laser-beam intensity, hoping someone'll notice. The roach disappears around her waist, and is gone for more than a minute. It reappears on the front of her skirt, then vanishes again, underneath. Frantic now, I'm eyeballing everything in sight, clutching my book tightly against my chest.
Finally, a few stops later, I spot the roach climbing up a man's pant leg, right behind her. It remains motionless for quite some time, and I briefly look away, since the crowd has thinned considerably and I don't want to call attention to myself by conspicuously staring at a man's pants. When I look back, it's gone.
The next stop is mine, and I bolt from the car.
|
