at a bar in brooklyn late at night, a woman taps me on the shoulder and asks if she heard me correctly, that i/d seen hamilton twice?
               i had made a joke to jackie the woman overheard and apparently she took it very seriously
               well, i say, only once really. the second time tom brought giselle and the kids, but they started crying and we had to leave early
               excuse me, she says, tom and giselle?
               yeah, i say sipping my beer casually, my cousin tom. you might know him, tom brady?
               on the subway back to her apartment, jackie leans her head against my shoulder and i can see her reflection in the glass across the car
               you know, she says closing her eyes, in the whole time i/ve lived here, i dont think i/ve ever seen someone so likely to be stabbed for a good reason

Brendan Connolly’s work has been featured by Genre: Urban Arts, OPEN: Journal of Arts & Letters, Gravel Magazine and elsewhere. He lives and writes in Salem, Massachussetts.