To Shaggy and Daphne who took the fucking F Train past the Ft. Hamilton stop this evening and got off at some point when I wasn’t looking. Shaggy, you were wearing grey cut off jean shorts, had your just woke up hair-do during PM rush hour and were reading an obscure book. Daphne, you were exhausted from a day of doing nothing and were resting your greasy head on Shaggy’s lap. If I ever see you go that deep into south Brooklyn again you’re fuckin’ dead.