BLUE COUP D’ETAT

St. Patrick’s day, it is cold outside, four o’clock in the morning, the one train roars uptown. A woman sits next to two big green bags that look as though they weigh more than she does, her skin discolored and cracked at her calf and ankle; she rubs her ankles together nervously. She looks like a frightened dog that might bark very loud in fear. She wears green flip flops, a green sweater, black shirt, a sharp jaw that hangs from her head, black hair, black eyes. She gets up at 42nd, stands half asleep two stops to 59th where she trudges to the ABCD.