The subway platform at Broad Channel this evening. Beach goers waiting for the A train to take them home from the Rockaways. We had been to the Jamaica Bay Wildife Refuge (many giant egrets, osprey, milkweed and yucca flower and sea rocket pictures later) and joined this happy, sweaty throng.
Cops arrived. A girl passed out. My back cried, Hold, enough! I think we were the only un-inked denizens of the train when it arrived at very, very long last. Never seen so many tattoos. A scorpion held the pole beside me. A flying goose, passing cormorant and stand of Typha chatted in the doorway. A crab's exoskeleton consulted its phone. Pink, waving cats were enigmatic behind tinted glasses.
Summer in the city.
Nothing a Cuba Libre can't fix.
Yikes. The tattoos come to Tilden too. Yikes.
ReplyDeleteI was just noticing tattoos yesterday at the gas station. The attendant putting gas in my car had an arm filled with swirling designs. When I was a girl (at least a century ago), the only people I remember having tattoos were men my father's age who had been in the Navy, usually a hula girl or a heart with MOM inside.
ReplyDeleteHow ironic that in search of solitude we ended up in this mess... Oh well, lesson learned. And I am glad you recorded it for posterity. Oh, and let's not forget we saw three different A380's. Well forth the chaos I think. ;-)
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