Behind these shades
I’m crying on the train
With music and crosswords
I attempt distraction
but my mind is set to
Rewind, replay
the events of the day
Regrettably
how my heart aches.
A sticky mess by the side of the track. The sun high, the clouds low. Steam rises like wavering ghosts reaching up from the ground. Sepia tones saturate, obscuring the sharp lines and loud colours of the urban sprawl. Crushed cans, faded cigarette butts, plastic, paper and an array of other unidentifiable objects carelessly discarded, fated to a graveyard of dirty grey stones. The platform a shuffle of tired commuters. Here, a suitcase in hand and a paper tucked under the arm. Here, a somber-faced woman alone with her ipod. Here, two schoolgirls looking ruffled and hurried.
This train window; I stare out through scratches and fingerprints. The carriage around me; humming and hushing in the afternoon hues. Patrons stiff and upright in their small spaces, nervously avoiding the eyes of one another. The tick-tick of the air-conditioning, a light coolness overhead. I sit, tight to the wall, breath caught deep inside, wide eyes, wondering – Does anyone else see that!?
Stiff fingers. Is it wrong to love the rain and hate the cold?
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The unattainable I must appear or else you would have found me here.
–
Friendship is a free consultation.
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This madness: my straight line In infinite sadness
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I’m just a piece of meat on a silver plate. Something you’re bound to eat but never taste.
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I am slowly getting over my drinking problem.
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I am an imposter in this body.
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I am the bad woman come to steal your man. Not because I want him: just because I can.
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The lengths one goes to.
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The rising sun spawns a thousand ideals.
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Anticipation; will this goddamn train leave already?
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Come out of the dark and howl at the moon.
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I am playing with alter egos.
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The single girl with her disposable income could go far in this place.
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Good people and good business dealing ensure my return.
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The sad song plays along. I find comfort in lyrics written for another.
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This headache is more than I can take.
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You give me that look: the melting kind.
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My train hisses underneath. The air hums with electricity.
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I’d like to read myself to you; like a book. Yes, it would be that easy.