The realities of fiction and flushing are remarkably similar

March 18th, 2005. Northern Blvd. Newly re-openned Burger King. 9.35pm. Q13 free-fare-friday night. The bus slows at the light, and you were inside? With your friend and both of you wearing your punker sweaters. Only difference was you had your red hair pulled neatly back into pigtails. Five years later and I guess it was too late for the park and you were too old for clinchy awkwardness with your friend?

Did you get a shake and fries?

The light turns green and I settle into a drunken grin and moving bus.

"Fuckin' cool," I whisper, to noone in particular.