They nod as the Jew sits. The train sways in the dark tunnel.
J: Brighton Beach?
A: Coney Island.
J: Think they’ll be enough sand?
A: There won’t be enough water.
J: Salt?
A: Fresh.
J: How much longer before we get there?
A: Forever.
J: Brighton or Coney?
A: Forever for Brighton and another five minutes for Coney.
J: Where did you get on?
A: A thousand years ago. You?
J: Two thousand.
A: Been in the desert too long.
J: Who hasn’t?
A: What do you want?
J: A day at the beach.
A: The beach is at the desert’s end.
J: Here, it is at the Ocean’s end.
A: Here.
The subway stops. Doors open. A tinny voice over a PA system: King's Highway. The doors close and the train jerks off.
J: Looks like we’re actually getting there.
A: Well, we’re talking.
Don Arrup
Satire1
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