i don’t know if i can take any more of these 30 second love-affairs… they happen to me everyday, several times a day… and they can happen just about anywhere… walking down the street… standing at a crosswalk waiting for walk signal… going up an escalator, or on an elevator ride during the silent stare at the numbers… but it often happens on the subway… and as they enter my life, walking through the doors at any given station, i know that soon they’ll be out of my life just as fast, as soon as we reach their stop… she walks in, sits down, and adjusts herself to her new surroundings… she looks around quickly, hoping to be in a safe situation, careful not to catch eyes with a psycho… she sees me, sitting there either trying to look into my book so as not to get caught starring like a psycho, or looking around the train with spying eyes, trying to catch the best possible people-watching situation or potential eavesdropped conversation… i take a look at her, hoping to make eye contact, just to fill my heart with a little hope… what kind of girl is she? is she really who she presents herself to be, or is she all about creating an appearance? what are her insecurities? does she look like someone who likes to fuck? will she get that look in her eye when she’s giving head—that knowing look of power that can make you panic because you want it to last? is she the type of girl that will drag me through bed, bath, and beyond on a sunday when i am dying to get home to watch the yankees but don’t want to be one-of-those-guys… the “demographic” that the marketing whores create (so they can advertise to the lowest common denominator) and then mock, making you believe that you’re either a guy like in the beer commercials or you’re a fag… but then mocking those same guys by showing them to be the brain-dead homophobic fast-food alcoholics that they are… what if i am one of those guys? i don’t think i am, but who knows… god, all the things i could tell her about… all my stories, all my thoughts and hopes and wishes and fears and dreams and desires and she would listen to them all and fall in love with this collection of things that make up who i am… we’d wake up on sunday mornings and spoon in bed, and she’d tell me about the drama at her job, and how her family is driving her crazy, and how she saw a really cute pair of shoes the other day, but she’s not sure if she can afford them (knowing that she’s going to buy them anyway)… and i’d run out and get us bagels and a sunday times, and we’d flip channels and come upon a movie we both loved from 10 years ago and end up watching it while we teased each other with kisses and finger chills… and we’d talk about the future, and then she’d say something cute and i’d make a big fuss about it and she’d feel insecure and secure at the same time and love how hard i squeeze her… and she’d give me loving head for as long as i could stand it and then just a little bit longer, and i’d return the favor and we’d lay in each other’s arms for an hour recuperating… and these days would pile up to create a relationship, and we’d get to know each other better each day, and life would fill-up… fill-up with days and moments strung together into this tapestry of memories that fill pages of journals as much as the spaces in our souls and make it all worth it—all the pain, all the sorrow, all the struggle, all the disappointment and disillusionment… all those epiphanies of truth about how ugly the world is… they’d all fade into this contentment of being in love… and then one day, there would suddenly be a strain… and we’d both feel it… and then it would all slowly unravel… and eventually, dissolve… and even the pain of this would be worth it, because along with boxes of books and junk, you get to leave the relationship with that life-tapestry that you can throw over anything the world throws at you, and it keeps you warm when the world grows cold and heartless… it’s all worth it… all of it… but then the train comes to a stop, and she gets up… the thought crosses my mind to get off at her stop, maybe follow her onto the platform, and say something… anything… that will make her realize that i found her… that i’m the one she’s been looking for… some magic phrase or word that will illuminate her to the possibilities of getting to know a stranger… she would see the hope in my eyes, and if she was a believer, she would know that this was a life-defining moment for both of us… here it is… but the doors close, and she’s gone… i’ll likely never see her again… but at the next stop, another girl comes onto the train and sits down across from me… my long lost love of 2 minutes ago is gone from my heart forever... replaced by another 30 second love-affair…