People push others towards approaching trains. This happens occasionally in New York City. When I first arrived my friend S. said: Don’t stand too close to the edge of the platform, there are crazy people here. Sometime last November I saw a notice reporting the recent victim of such manic shove. The photograph, grainy from repeated copying, depicted a man with Asian features. Perhaps my age, perhaps in his early thirties. I walked on, towards the platform, fighting chilling thoughts. Two women who were waiting for the coming train discussed the tragedy. One said to the other: if any motherfucker pushes me, he goes down with me.
I now remember this woman. I wonder if she would have the time, in the instant it takes a perpetrator to push her forward, to reach back to drag him along, towards death. And if in the last moment of her life she would be consoled by the knowledge of shared dying.