apologies to baby angels

I'm riding the train home, watching a girl draft an apology note to a friend - something about a missing pair of sunglasses. The girl explains, that while she understands the earth shattering loss, that her friend has no idea about what's going on in her life and in so many polite words, to, please, ever so kindly, back the fuck up. 

Another woman, sitting the next section down and across from me, looks exactly like Michael Jackson, post transformation. I bet she cleans up nice and good, like the type of exotic whore you fall in love with.

The blonde girl fidgeting across from me feels pretty today and is nervously looking around to find out if anyone else agrees.  

The boy across from me seems too young to be so covered with all his tattoos, but he's dancing with a boombox and the angels around his neck.