hop the turnstile.        on some fuck it shit as of late & drop the mirrored-
bookmark Troop got me & while ducking back under to grab it,
‘you can grab the gate for me bro?’ I show up for niggas no question.
‘I know how hard it is out here man!’            return that smile.        I know how
hard shit can be outchere.         the blond-braided attendant is latte-bottom-
brown, endlessly brown, looking mighty snackish, never looking up from
their booth. I want to make eye contact but resist cuz eye contact gives away
illegal activity.         my heart beats from AK’s generosity. can’t decide
whether to read or listen to music on the D. niggas is talking loudly at my
deficit disorder. adrenaline, also. realize as I’m drinking this coffee there’s
mad stimulants in my body rn.       I let this free Cole Haan rain jacket sag
gently off both shoulders. meet w a new friend to hand off my book & talk
about writing & art shit in Tompkins.             shout outs to y’all who play devil’s
advocate w me, I learn the most from y’all.       always a dutiful eye out for
loose twenties on sidewalks. decide to walk west on 125th cuz it’s mild out &
to avoid the 4, the thick air so trapped in the tunnel you have to cover your
face w your shirt, fuck you if you got a tanktop — & it’s warm af down there
screaming      pungent fresh piss smelling ass        trains so packed niggas
literally turn into sardines. I’m meditating as I walk, speaking under my
breathe about the ways I interpret my own thoughts, how all my art is
thinking aloud & how I have to reproduce thoughts tangibly in order
understand all that stacking     up up top.        D train is one minute away;
I fist pump audibly as I’m walking to end up of the platform tryna line up w
the front car.              express stops from 145 to Kingsbridge Rd tonight.  
how did I get so lucky?

marcus scott williams is a writer and artist living in New York City by way of Kansas City Missouri. His work is predicated on themes such as body exploration, the creation of comfortable spaces, memory, and radical vulnerability. He is the author of  “Sparse Black Whimsy: A Memoir” (2fast2house, 2017) and has attended workshops at the Cave Canem Foundation and Winter Tangerine. He is a recipient of The Bronx Council on the Arts BRIO Award for artistic excellence and is a 2019 fellow at the Saltonstall Arts Colony.  He loves you.