To the stunning humanitarian
with skin like the perfect espresso
from my favourite cafe,
and hair like an oil-spill waterfall,
on the uptown C
at 116th st
at about 6pm last night.
You are beautiful.
(though you are that too)
but in your soul.
I have never seen such compassion,
as when you held the doors,
to call out to your friend on the platform,
instructions for which train to catch,
I can only assume,
they were blind, dyslexic, or otherwise unable
to read the MTA map.
I am glad you ignored the scowls, and hisses,
of those oh-so-typically-selfish New Yorkers,
who only cared for getting home after work,
as though their four-dollar moo shu pork
and unfulfilling love-lives couldn’t wait.
And good on you,
for taking the time to wish your friend well,
and promising them you’d talk soon,
and sending love to your mutual friend,
when under the concentrated pressure
of so many glaring eyes.
And the way you protected
the right to free speech,
by telling that man who yelled at you
to “shut the fuck up”,
that was amazing.
Does the ACLU know about you?
You deserve a Nobel prize.
I wish I could give it to you,
but all I can offer is my heart.