an old blog entry from february 7, 2006...entitled Train I

I found myself sitting on a bench in front of the train tracks. I was reading and drinking coffee. Looking around myself, quieting my mind, I regarded the surroundings as symbolic of my inner self. Tracks for trains which I do not intend to take, a yellow sign, "WARNING: LOOK BEFORE CROSSING." A warm, sunny, February afternoon.
I look up from my book as a woman with a cane sits beside me, takes a newspaper out of its plastic wrapping, and begins to read.
After continuing my reading and sipping for a few minutes, a man walks up to me - between 18 and 20 years old, tall, wearing red and black, and carrying a black garbage bag, presumably to collect cans for money - but, to be honest, I didn't actually see any cans. He hung around the trash next to the bench, and said "Are you hot in that sweater?"
"No," I replied, "not really."
He asked me my name and my age, taking out his phone, and I gave him an answer.
He put his phone away, and responded that he is Andre, he is one year older than me, or that I am one year younger. I don't remember. All the while he is pacing slowly back and forth in front of me.
I said "It's nice to have met you, Andre," and went back to my book.
He asked me what I liked to do, and then filled it in with the presumption that I like to read and drink coffee. I then took my final sip of coffee, and remarked that since I had no more coffee, then now I must only like to read.
He asked me if I knew what he liked to do. I looked up at him, and asked, genuinely interested, "what's that?" and he replied that he liked to fuck. I told that was a good thing to do, I supposed, but in response to his asking if I liked to, I said no. He began to say something else, like if I had ever fucked before, and the southbound train roared in, covering him up. I wanted to kiss that silver, glowy train! Perfect timing. The conductor asked the woman next to me if she needed assistance (we were on the passenger assistance bench), but then remembered that she only ever goes north.
Went back to the book. When he returned a few minutes later, he was standing on the tracks in front of me. He said "goodbye, Elizabeth" and I said, "goodbye."
I looked back at my book and that instant the northbound train came roaring in, obliterating Andre into nothingness, and the woman beside me got on the train.
I got up, a mosquito bite now on the left side of my neck, and walked down the street and sat near a fountain.

That night, I received my new name.