Monday, July 16, 2012

my commute to work

Doors Close.
Man taps his foot next to me.
Still have not paid my bills, and I don't want this to be a "teaching moment."
He taps along to a hidden song.  His world alone.
To my left a busy person counts receipts, organizing.
I wonder who sees my blue toenails.
Doors open.
Slight change.
Doors close.
An older child sits near me.
I think their parents tell them to be careful of where they Sit on the subway.
I am safe, and he knows it.
Doors open.
My boyfriend has those shorts.
Doors close.
I just realized this train is going local.
I am distracted.
I wear these shoes too much.
Canal street makes me think dirty thoughts.
Doors open.
Eye contact with a pretty girl who looks like Diane Lane.
I think I have pen on my face.
Long wait and hesitation.
Doors close.
Sleeping man in red. I think he's sad.
Now convinced, I wish things were different.
The train stands still.
The tapping foot gets louder.  Sometimes people are nervous.
Starting up and go.
Doors open.
A crazy man is yelling.  His voice cracks loudly.
People shift and look at their shoes.
He wears all black.  His smell hits me as he walks past.
He thinks he is a prophet.
Doors open .
Doors close.
Peace regained on the train.
I notice many men don't wear socks with their shoes in the summer.
Makes me think of smelly feet.
I would probably do the same thing if I couldn't wear sandals.
Doors open.
Leopard print.
Diane Lane is so pretty.
Doors close.
I feel like Huckleberry Finn, covered in ink.
Doors open, then close.
This guy loves to work out and has the shoes to prove it.
Apocalypse partner.
We slow. Doors open.
I lose track of the red shirt guy.
Doors close.
The next time they open, the world will change.
There will be sky again.
Slowly, doors open.

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