She Thinks She's A Mystery To All

I can see a man talking to me. He's holding onto a pole, wearing blue plaid, bespectacled, mid-30s, friendly-looking. He points excitedly at my book and says something.

I take my headphones out. "I'm sorry?"

"Is that a Big Star 33 1/3 book?"

I nod. "Radio City," I say.

"I saw the name Jody Stephens in bold and thought it must be." He leans his head to the side to look at the cover. "Didn't know they had a Big Star one."

"It just came out last week."

I'm wearing some ridiculous bright red lipstick. The woman at Sephora said it had terra cotta tones that would be good against my skin. I feel out of my element in red lipstick, a child-sized velvet blazer, and my high school Chuck Taylors. And now a stranger is making conversation. I smile meekly, aware of my too bright lips, and gesture to my headphones. "I'm listening to the album while I read about the album. The full experience."

The man sitting in between us offers to move; we both wave him back into his seat. Just a common interest in a band, sir. Blue Plaid Man recommends John Darnielle's Black Sabbath 33 1/3, then goes back to reading his own book. He departs at 110th street; I wave goodbye.

I like to pretend I'm bewitching.

She thinks she's a mystery to all
but I know what's behind those eyes
sometimes I think she'll make me forget
what I need most to remember
and then I'll slip on back
even if they say it's better.

© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.