What You Don’t Know

What you don’t know, little guy on the uptown “D”, is that I’m wondering if you’re a miniature businessman or some doofy kid on his way home from a downtown school for precocious mini-Wall Streeters. Your subtly striped midnight blue pants (half of a suit, it appears) and dark blue shirt sans tie, big boy black lace-up shoes, sturdy briefcase, neatly combed short light brown hair and very thin wire glasses (they look “flexi”!) could lend themselves to either identity. I don’t know what you are. Boy? Man? Beast?
Peter Parker?
In profile, little man boy, you resemble Tobey Maguire. Yes, you do. Your somewhat pouty lips. Your almond eyes and flirty eyelashes. Your hair, so well-groomed. Your mild manner.
What you don’t know, little Mr. Peter Parker Tobey Maguire In Profile, is that for several stops I’ve been amusing myself by picturing you in the full Spider-Man getup, complete with webby wrists. Hanging upside-down, like in the movie, kissing that chilly ingenue. (But I haven’t gone so far as to picture her as me.)
What you don’t know is that you shouldn’t turn to your left and let me see you from an angle other than your profile, because when you do, you look nothing like Tobey Maguire and everything like 16-year-old Josh Goldbluth on his way uptown to visit his Aunt Selma for a Tuesday afternoon game of rummikub.
P.S. It’s cute how, when we both stand to get off the subway at 72nd Street, you look up at me all shyly, astonished that I am literally half a foot taller than you. (I know you wish you had webby wrists so you could scale me.)