So what gets you up in the morning? I mean, the alarm clock rings, and some dumb DJ is talking some trash about a starlet or a poor slob that met a bad ending. And you are like “Why should I get up?” You put a leg out and test the air – too cool and you slide back in. You roll over – maybe just a minute more or how about until the digital says 15 after the hour or how about 30 or maybe when the song is done? There you are deciding, deciding, deciding. Finally, you slide out, swinging your feet over the edge. Maybe you slip them into fuzzy slippers or you hit the cold floor like diving into the first swim of the summer before you test the temperature. And then you are hitting the shower or swigging down the first bit of hot coffee and it happens you feel life begin to run through your body. You can see a little more clearly; you even may be humming a tune. Who knows what got you out of the bed really, what inner urging made you decide this is the day to continue living.
News flash: Man Shot In Diner.
The story goes that the man #1 had an argument with man #2 in the hallway of man #1’s apartment. The argument gets a little heated and man #1 knows his wife would be a real bitch if he wakes up the kids one more time because his good-for-nothing buddies get rowdy and don’t know what it is like to respect anybody. So man #1 tries to end this whole deal but man #2 just feels like continuing this fight. In fact, he feels he has earned the right for a good fight. After all he comes all the way from The Bronx to pick up from this guy. He hits the subway and the Queen’s train is running like every twenty minutes and he has to hang out with some stinking drunk immigrants. One guy thinks he is going to take himself a little nap on his shoulder. Well, man #2 is having none of that and kicks him to the other end of the car. When he gets to Queens, man #1 is not opening the door. “Shit, he says, “it’s cold out. Open this damn door!” He starts kicking it and kicking it and the neighbor’s dog starts barking and he hears the peephole opening and he turns just once and gives him his eye. He knows that look scares all the uptight folks and he can move through most of life pretty easy. Man #1 is sleeping he finished his final deal two hours ago. He is in deep into a good dream when man #2 comes banging at his door. The asshole was supposed to be there at midnight. He knows the policy is no business after 1 AM. The banging is waking up his wife who could sleep through anything but if you wake her there is hell to pay for a week. Man #1 sees the beginning of morning creeping through the shade. It is chilly and he doesn’t want his feet hitting the cold floor but the neighbor’s dog is barking so he swings his legs over the side of his bed. He looks back at his wife with her dark hair spilled over her face and her full lips peering through it and he wants to slide right over to her side but he leaves…
The neighbors said man #1 ran like someone who wanted to live. He zigzagged down the block as man #2 kept trying to shoot him, the bullets popping like small firecrackers breaking with the morning sun.
In the diner on the corner, they had just opened with the first coffee already made. The home fries were cooking. The waitress was making a toasted bagel with peanut butter for this guy who had a thing for her and came in every day before he hopped into his cab. The cook was breaking some eggs for an omelet and some scramble for the two guys who had just come off the night shift at the MTA. They heard the screaming. “Help me, help me!” They heard the pop, pop, pop and then man #1 broke through the door. The cook dropped two eggs onto the floor, the crack just like the pop pop from the street. Everyone turned to look at the frightened face of man #1. “Call the police he’s going kill me.” He ran to the back and tried to open the bathroom door. But the door had a key that was at the front register. The busboy looked at him blankly and man #1 turned to see man #2 burst through the door. He had the gun held over his head. He didn’t look at anyone else. Man #1 turned back to face the busboy and he didn’t even feel the shot hit his back or the bullet rip his heart open. He just remembered the way his wife’s hair fell over her face and how her lips parted to kiss him one more time.
The people in the diner never said a word they just watched him fall, dropping through the air. Man #2 ran out the door and across the street to the subway. He was glad to be getting out of Queens.
The neighbors said man #1’s mother watched the whole thing from her window across the street.
A poem: His finger brushed her hip/penetrating to the bone.
Another news flash: 15-Year Girl Dies From A Kiss.
She is ripe. That is what her boyfriend thinks. Ripe, he never thought that before he wasn’t even sure what it meant. But he looks at her and her hair falls in curls over her face. Her lips are bright red and look so good. She looks at him her eyes are just so big, so he wipes the last of the peanut cup from his mouth and he kisses her. Lips so warm and soft and so wet. He slides his tongue all around and she pushed herself against him until her body just stops. She looks at him for a moment trying to figure out what is wrong. She remembers her mother at the window when she left. She was looking after her as she walked down the street. The boyfriend really didn’t know what happened he holds her limp body against his until they pull her away. He can still feel the wetness of her mouth.
The doctors said it can happen that way with allergies. It’s so quick you don’t even have the time to react. So quick, the life goes before you have even a moment to think about it.
Written on a subway wall: Where in my body does God live?
News flash #3: Subway Push Suspect Awaits Arraignment
They had argued all night. Starting at the club. Starting over a girl. They had been friends since the 2nd grade, first learning to read, and then doing drugs together in the back room of his uncle’s Elmhurst apartment. They even learned about sex together, giving it up to the twins who went to their school. The twins were a grade above them but just liked to do it all the time, together, or with boys. The friends never thought a thing about it, they were just content to have the sex thing over with. As young men with drugs and some money in their pockets, they felt really good. But they had not been happy for awhile. Now they were arguing their friendship shredding as the night wore on.
People said they argued on the platform for a long time. It was early, the sky just starting to lighten in the east. The platform was elevated and outdoors and the wind hit them hard and there was no place to get away from it. No place. They screamed and screamed not seeing the train emerging from down the tracks rising with the sun in the horizon. They pushed at each other until one friend pushed so hard that the other just fell back, realizing he was falling into air. The train never had a chance to stop. One friend stood looking at his outstretched hands and before him was a train and not his friend. He remembered when they were eight and had their first cigarette behind the red door of the Catholic school. Neither one of them had an idea what to do with it. It made them cough and then laugh. They ran when they heard someone coming. It was their first and last cigarette together; there were other things to discover.
The reporter was on the scene. She told all the people who were up already, who were making coffee or eating their breakfast that the train would be running as soon as EMS had finished picking up the bits of pieces of the man from the track and the street below. The sun was bright and the body bag was small as they carried it down the stairs.
Another poem found on a subway wall: Fall open like a pear/ split down the middle.
So I am just asking, what gets you up in the morning? I mean when your feet hit the ground what stops you from rolling back into the bed? What makes you want to continue living?
First published in 11-30-05
Sandra Lee Schubert © All Rights Reserved, 2025
