Thoughts on the Train

The weather has turned chilly. I see people wearing hoodies, sweaters, and scarves. It's not quite cold enough for hats and gloves, but the wind blows down the street. The trees sway and leaves swirl in peaceful tornadoes. Father winter is on his way. He is breathed a strong breath into the end of summer. Soon the midnight mysticism of winter's first snowfall will cover the ground. Will we be ready? By Eric Hodgson on Oct 18th on the M train.

I slipped out the door into the dark cold November night. As I walked the few steps to the subway to begin my lonely trek home, the smell of you is still on my fingertips, on my sweater, in my hair. I absently touch my lips feeling the rough spots from where your stubble ground against my flesh in our passion. It hurts but it is a pleasing pain. In my mind I can see you lying next to me your brown eyes looking right through me. Seeing me for who I really am, and I am not afraid. I worry that I will disappoint you. I worry that I am not what I seem. Yet I know your intuition is accurate, you let that slip. So I will trust you and trust myself to finally be myself. Be the man I have hidden away. Be the man that you are attracted to. Be the man you see clear as day. Eric Hodgson November 1st, 2011