These terrible commutes.
Twenty six minutes in an underground train flying through tunnels but the only entertainment is pregnacare and mortgage ads.
The only?
Don’t think I can’t feel that there’s something wrong.
Opposite the black guy with his hair in lines and shoulder long braids. Tired face and eyes jumping around the floor. Returns my gaze first briefly then more steadily.
You’ve been the sweatest part of my life for so long. I look in your eyes, there’s a distant light.
Over there a mid-aged English guy with round glasses and a golden ring on the pinkie finger. Black long trench coat and somehow uneasy in his seat.
You and I know there’ll be a storm tonight.
And this Robbie Williams type of guy with headphones is sitting right next to the door. He’s very upright in his seat and ready to jump up and out.
Baby, this is getting serious. Are you thinking about you or us?
Holding the rolled up free newspaper with his one hand and controls two suitcases with the other. A traveler, randomly shaking his head and staring towards the dark window.
Don’t say what you’re about to say. Look back before you leave my life.
Now getting on is a black old professor type with a checked blazer and a briefcase. Two litres of juice in a shopping bag, pictures of mango and pineapple shining through the white plastic. Silver curly hair above the ears, closed eyes.
Be sure before you close that door. Baby think twice. For the sake of our love, for the memory.
