Screaming Man, L Train Platform

Past him I walk in my tall black Russian hat
at least the hat looks Russian
its green button with a deer emblem
means it once belonged to a guy
in the kind of men’s club
I wouldn’t have wanted to join

Walking past the screaming man
I will admit that in this hat
I fantasize that I am Porfiry Petrovich
the quirky inspector
from Crime and Punishment
who hounds poor Raskolnikov

In my little notebook I scribble notes
drawings, poems, 
clues, evidence
leading deeper into the investigation
I lean over a suspicious stain
shaped like a poisonous mushroom

I sketch it in my notebook
really I just want a better look
at the screaming man
he, now yipping, barking
wears a blue toque
under a flickering light

A fan buzzes, thin film of voltage
upon us all like ash, the man is fat
his butt protrudes his greasy jeans
he has no age because he’s an addict
could be 100, is 100
I write all this, these tips, this intel

In my notebook, the man
now beside me
screams like a ghost seeking its body
and on the other side of me
a couple is necking, tongues and all
really going for it, soon they will fuck

I’m sure of it, yes, even before
our train arrives, he will climax, her too
they will conceive a baby
that resembles the screaming man
I see it, the baby, its red nose,
its desperate stare, exophthalmic eyes

Its fat butt, charismatic grin
the child will have a chance
at a new life, at rebuilding the world
but what it’s inherited,
this world, will be too much
and it will fail