Metro North Gothic — Flick

a disturbance of the peace

by Joe Váradi

Gurl.
Yes, you,
elbow deep in
that bag of Doritos
diagonally across from me
on the 6:13 out of Grand Central, in
the six-seater bulkhead row of the quiet car.

Yes,
you are
consuming
with blithe abandon
The. Loudest. Possible. Snack.
foil rustling, corrugated chips crackling.
Have I mentioned yet that this is the quiet car?

And
that’s
not even
the worst of it.
My fellow rail commuter,
my insatiably ravenous travel companion,
you, Miss, have a vile and despicable personal habit

I
kid
you not,
every time
Every. Goddam. Time.
after you reach into that bag,
and place another morsel in your mouth,
you casually FLICK the dust off your fingers and into space.