Everybody minds their own business in the NYC subway. Ecept for the twenty-something out-of-town bigot berating a blue-haired girl. I didn’t want to educate him. One look around the car, however, and I knew no one else would.
Tired, but fed up with such mortal nonsense, I stand up & step into the personal space of the suddenly-outraged bigot. He’s about to curse or shout; My stare silences him.
I ask the girl, without taking my eyes off of his, “How would you like him to stop?”
She shudderds, but her head drops once.
“We mind our business on the subway,” I softly say to the out-of-town bigot, “You’re going to sit down and shut up, right now. Conscious or unconscious, I leave up to you.”
Guess what he decides.
And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,
with the photographs there and the moss.
Kim hosts this past Monday’s dVerse Poets’ Prosery, where we write our prose and include the line “And I’ll bury my soul in a scrapbook,/ with the photographs there and the moss.” I wrote this urban fantasy inspired by a tweet I saw in which a brave man confronts a bigoted bully.
The Pub is still open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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