An Open Letter To the Conservatory Boy On My Train Every Morning.

Dear Sir:

Every morning you race onto my train at the last minute. We sit or stand within ten feet of each other, usually looking straight ahead, but often enough making eye contact and looking away abruptly. We both get out at Mass Ave, go up the back stairs, and head down Gainsborough Street until we reach St. Botolph, at which point you take a right to St. Botolph Hall, and I take a left into Northeastern territory. The same thing happens every morning. And I'm not complaining.

Well Ill say it: I like you, and I know I don't have any real reason why. Remember that time you smiled at me as we stepped off the train, and I grimmaced? I'm sorry. Really I am, but I was flustered. Because I like you, and since I decided that, I haven't been able to smile at you or talk to you or anything, because what happens if I grimmace again? And anyway, it's been damn near impossible.

It's the angles, you see. The angles are all wrong. I'll stand next to where you're sitting, or vice versa. Smiles exchanged at these angles are creepy. Or that fat guy who stands in the open doorway blocks any possibility of nonverbal communication. For pete's sake, I always have a seat free right next to me. Sit down! So much easier!

On top of that, we move in parallel lines. Always we are side by side. We step off the train in tandem, walk up opposite sides of the staircase, only getting mixed up when we reach the turnstiles. And no, I can't talk to you at the turnstiles, because it's just too late. If I'm going to talk to you at all, it has to be right at the get-go. Am I right, here? We go down the stairs on the other side, this time you on the right and I on the left, matching each other's down-going patter. I walk down the left side of the street, you on the right, and at one point we are on the same line, going in oppposite directions. Someone should write a poem about that.

I'm not sure what to say, but this isn't working. And I'm too much of a neurotic perfectionist to be comfortable initiating conversation with you in anything short of faultless circumstances, so I'm afraid it's up to you.

My heart is still a-flutter from this morning,
The Other Redhead In the Car.

ALTERNATE VERSION: Picture me standing on the orange line with a boombox over my head playing Touch and Go's hit single, "Would you...?":

Um
I've noticed you around
I find you very attractive
I've noticed you around
Um
I find you very attractive
I find you very attractive
Um
Would you go to bed with me?

I've noticed you around
Um
I find you very attractive
Would you...?
Um

I've noticed you around
I find you very attractive
Would you...?
Um
Um
Would you go to bed with me?

I've noticed you around
I find you very attractive
I've noticed you around
Um...