Mixed Couple on the Morning Train by Donal Mahoney
Because he works in an office and is white
and because she who tans anyway has just returned from a week at the Beach, the commuters are certain she’s not black yet they rustle in their seats. They want to see her hands flick. They want to see if rivers run dark through ivory palms. Martin may be dead and Obama may have won but in Chicago this morning at dawn a rainbow of people still rustle in their seats.