Short Stories & Essays

I am the 2 Tram, and I am here to ruin your evening.

I am the 2 tram. Excuse me, Bim zwei, but I prefer you call me the 2 tram. I know what you’re thinking, you’d be surprised to know, English is actually my native language! No German (or Austrian) efficiency here!

My mother was American, an oil painter, she loved watching paint dry. My father was an Italian post office worker. Union man, spent his weeks behind the counter, lording quietly over absolute chaos. In his spare time he tended to his lawn. He liked to watch the grass grow. It’s actually how they met! One summer in the 60’s she painted a picture of it, his lawn, growing in real time: a canvas slowly overcome by green. They spent their first date watching a pot of water boil. Long story short, now you have me. Come aboard, girl.

I am the 2 tram, and I’m always a bit discombobulated. I don’t get the rush all the other trams are in. I prefer to take my time, really consider my options. Especially when I am one stop away from your destination. That’s the best time to take a good long rest, and ponder, where am I really going?
Where are you really going, girl?

If the guy you are off to see is so mediocre in bed, is it worth the tooth-grinding crawl of a trip with me? I see you, texting your friends about him, yawning. Do you really want to see him again? Has he ever made you come? Just saying, you can get off here, or not get off at his place. Either way, you’re going to end the evening frustrated. 

I am the 2 tram and I know you still miss him. Not the mediocre guy you’re off to see, the one before. I see you staring at his picture. Girl, I know you. I know you hate subway poems, but you still love train metaphors. Actually, you love subway poems, even though they’re so tired. You’re so tired, girl. Stay a while. It will be a while. 

But as for trains, and subways,  and metaphors, I am somewhere in between. I am lacking in both romance and speed. I am a literal slow train to nowhere. I am a metaphor for settling.  I am preposterously packed with baby carriages and…Tibetan monks? There’s a lot happening here girl, and you’re missing all of it!

There, you did it again, you dazed off, looked out the window, and started thinking about him again. The guy in the picture, who lives off the U-Bahn, a cozy 15 minutes from your door to his. I can’t offer you that, but I can offer you a stunning view of all the cars speeding by, and a permeating sense of existential dread. 

Hey, girl, pay attention to me, or I will stop suddenly and slide you off your seat! You know what, I am going to do it anyway. 

I am the 2 tram and I am taking you home. It’s almost midnight. I’m empty, save for a smattering of ombré blondes. I am a staccato song. My mind wanders. Oh right- I was supposed to stop there. Oops.

I am the 2 tram and I want you more than any man ever will. Stay with me, girl. Let’s linger here a while. Let me hold you. When was the last time you were held? When was the last time you slowed down?

I am the 2 tram and I am arriving in 47 seconds, and then not again for 15 years. 

Girl, You better run.

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