Sermon on the Train.

I had just left Metropolis, where I dropped a letter and read Frank O'Hara, and boarded a southbound redline train. I dropped another on one of the train's seats and then switched cars at the next stop.

On that car was a man preaching the joy of jesus. He was shouting on high about salvation, how jesus forgave his sins, transformed his heinous acts so that he could walk (stumble) before us speaking the word of god.

At the next stop I returned to my original car only to realize that preacher man had done the same thing. I knew that he was going to find my letter, and at first I was dismayed. "This guy will never reply," I thought. Sure enough, mid sentence, the man scoops up the box with the tag that says, "please open." While I was wondering what he might do, he keeps speaking to the passengers as he scrambles to open the box.

"What in the name of Jesus is this?" He says. "What have I found?" The train stopped and he scuttled off--and on to the next car.

I left another letter in that same spot, incessant in my desire for a reply to my question. A few seconds later, I, too, scuttled off--and on to a different train. Going a different way.