wednesday (fall in love again and again)

A couple of years ago, maybe five years ago, yes five years ago, I think it was 2021, I’m almost sure it was 2021, I went on tour with Ben Bennett and Michael Foster. We were celebrating the release, I think, of “carne vale,” a disc we put out on Relative Pitch. Or maybe we were about to record “carne vale.” In any case, Ben drove.

I met Michael in New York and we took the train down to Philadelphia. I couldn’t find Michael or the train and we nearly missed it. But we didn’t. When we got to Philadelphia Ben picked us up at the station in a red Pontiac. I can’t remember the model. A classic Pontiac, not a Firebird.

We listened to Terry Allen over and over again. Ben really liked this song where he sings, “…a cracker crunch…” and would rewind the track over and over to listen to “…a cracker crunch…” I found this annoying at first but then fell in love with the song and the album and the whole Terry Allen experience in general. If you don’t know who Terry Allen is remember you have free will and look him up, but the long story short is country singer / conceptual artist. O what a life.

In any case I’ve fallen in love with the next few lines of the song:

…A cracker crunch

‘Cause you’ll only see her once

Only this one time at lunch

And she might as well see you too

Why it’s the last time

You’re passing through

And it’s not rude

When she takes away your food

To touch her fingers

And let ‘em linger a while with your loneliness

Mmm, a cracker crunch

I thought of this the other day on the metro.

I was going home from getting a haircut, Eduardo giggled about something but I don’t remember what, oh I think about England drawing with Ghana, “ay el pobre imperio ahora qué van a hacer,” I said or something like that and he giggled, which was generous of him. Then he cut my hair.

I took the metro home because I wanted to fall in love and I did. I made eye contact with a man who I wouldn’t usually find attractive but something about the eye contact was shocking. He gradually made his way towards me, locking eyes every once in a while to see if I was still interested. I was, and he got closer.

He was wearing a boring shirt, kind of a check Oxford number, a grey jacket, black jeans. He was taller than me, but not by much. He had brown eyes, maybe blue, I guess I don’t pay that much attention to eye color. He had a five o’clock shadow. It was five o’clock and the 1 train heading to Pantitlan was packed. He looked like the kind of person who doesn’t look at anything with much intensity. But he looked at me intensely and I liked that so I looked back.

I’m on the 1 train to Pantitlan for three stops: Sevilla, Insurgentes, Cuauhtémoc. Then I get off at Balderas. Maybe that’s four stops. We both get on at Sevilla. I’m at the back of the car, he’s by the door. By the time we get to Insurgentes he’s one body away from me. By the time we leave Insurgentes he’s right in front of me and my heart is pounding.

At the end of “The Beautiful Waitress,” which is what this song is called, there’s an interaction between Terry Allen and the waitress. The waitress asks him what he does, he tells her (he doesn’t tell us), she tells him she likes to draw horses but she can’t figure out how to draw a straight line, she can do the body ok but not the head. That was the vibe this guy had, someone who can draw the body ok but not the head. “You’re drawing sausages, not horses,” I tell him. “No, they’re horses,” he insists.

We’re both reaching up, arms at an L, holding on to the rail above. I’m reaching with my right hand, he’s reaching with his left. Our elbows are touching gently. This is the first step. As the brand new trainstock lurches towards Cuauhtémoc, our elbows bounce together, first seemingly by accident, then intentionally. I’m willing my elbow to hold in place. Maybe he is, too. They’re locked together in any case, a gentle, loving pressure.

‘Cause you’ll only love her once

Only this one time at lunch

And she might as well love you too

Why it’s the last time

You’re passing through

The train stops suddenly between Cuauhtémoc and Balderas and our hands fall together, by accident? Not really by accident. My right pinky links with his left thumb. We are very, very close to each other. I can feel his heat. Now when we link eyes it feels like the train will explode.

I move my bag a little so that it’s not between us, a subtle move but a vulnerable one. I usually keep my bag against my chest to avoid any kind of pickpocketing. Now it’s on my side, where I can’t watch it or feel it if someone casually unzips it and takes my phone. He moves his bag a little too. I wonder if we’re going to touch. My heart is racing.

His left hand is free now, I can see it when I glance down to judge the space between us. The train jolts and his left hand is on my crotch, holding me. I look into his eyes. Our hands are interlocked on the rail above. We get to Balderas, the doors open, and it’s over.

Honestly sometimes this is all I need and all I want. Mmmmmm, a cracker crunch…