waiting for the weekend bus in an unfamiliar queens neighborhood at not so late a night. this after a friend decided to get more overpriced beer in this sports bar teeming with closeted cases.
ten, fifteen minutes in and another bus came. this one, i was told, does not connect to my train. i took it.
you know how, say in an encyclopedic museum with a deep collection, one can really sense when modernism took root? you know when one understands there is no longer any destination in these pictures?
at the last stop, i had to get off and ran across the street to wait for the next one going the reverse route. in the shadows behind the stop, a thickset man was chain smoking while talking on his phone. at times, the street lamp would inexplicably dim, and the man with his lighted cigarette and fluorescent phone flared like a burning tree.