It’s been eons since the three of us have gone out together. I saw our reflections in a bank window and thought—there we are…the three milkshakes, live in the fleshy flesh on a Friday Nite. BTW chicas, I think that should be the name of BRANDTRUEBOY’S clothing design company—“The Three Milkshakes”. Although “Live in the Fleshy Flesh” is a pretty good one too...hmm. Anywho, I got so psyched to see myself out with those bitches, lemme tell ya. Did I mention that it’s been eons? K, it’s been about a week, but that’s like a year in fag time. Sterling was on my left arm, eating a bright red apple and managing to look cock diesel sans cock…in her tight blue jeans and her belt made out of an old seatbelt with antique soda bottle caps hot-glued onto the sides. “My Grandma made it for me,” she said, sounding sad and little girl-ish, as she always does when she mentions her family—all of which are so far out of her life she doesn’t even know where they live anymore…or IF they live. She wore a white designer tank top given to her by her latest girl—it was hand woven on a tiny Japanese island out of the thinnest, most precious cotton spun on earth. I couldn't take my eyes off it and stared and stared, until the threads burned purple marks across my eyes. Over this she wore her beat-up retro green leather. Her silver hair was combed up into a Tin Tin like poof. Her shoulders were muscular beneath my fingertips.
TROUBLE TRUE was on my right arm, all 5’ 3’ of her. She was wearing her ancient, super-soft black jeans that she hadn’t washed in months. She had on her army green Calvin Klein sweatshirt with the enormous hood and the dirty words written in magic marker on the left sleeve. “The wind from a taxi window dried my hair today…It was blasting in my face, all the way up Central Park West. It was awesome…I love having hair again.” That said she didn’t once take off her hood to show us how long it’s gotten. She blinked out at the world from behind the scratchy lenses of her thick-rimmed, super geek glasses.
“Serial killer is the new black,” she said, smiling wickedly as she clung to my arm. The diamonds on her hoops glistened. Her lipstick was perfect and her green on brown Shox looked brand new. As for me, I’ve taken it back up a notch or two, as I retreat into the easy comfort of silks and proper, pleated trousers. My hair is black again and I’ve got new fronts (a tasteful gold frame, just on the top teeth). Perhaps I’m going through some sort of Latino phase…I’ve been smoking Newports of all things and have developed the habit of carrying a pack in the breast pocket of my dress shirts, through which the green and white label is plainly visible…
I wanted to go to the piers, the girls wanted to eat. I took out my phone to call a car but they wanted to walk. So walk we did—we went up and down stairs—we got on and off trains, never once coming to a complete halt—walking though car after car as the train rumbled along. My favorite is moving in the opposite direction from which you are traveling. You push along, with everything tugging back at you, especially when you’re in between cars. It made me reflect upon the nature of time, and if individual instants are chained together like subway cars hurtling down a track…
(although each car had a beginning and end, the train itself was endless, and what's more, it was travelling forward in its endlessness, creating another beginning, middle and end within another endlessness...)
One strange thing about the evening was that there was never a single minute that i wasn't between the two of them, as a barrier or divider of some sort. They're still on about whatever they're on about...which meant that they refused to speak to one another directly but told me whatever it was instead.
I didn't really give a shit. I often sing-songed things twice, three times, and I still couldn't be sure anyone was listening...
Car to car...station to station...It was TRUE, then me, then Sterling. People looked up as we passed though. Some give barely perceptible nods of approval, some merely stared and put their filthy fingers in their filthy mouths.
"Not-to-worry," I said, "In the movie version, these will all be the beautiful people."
They both laughed.
"In the movie version I'll be wearing a cape and a crown," TRUE said as held onto the pole in the center of the car as the train screeched into Union Square.