December 2009
39 posts
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ode to the subway
I’ve never been in a busy, people-packed, helter skelter kind of subway. I’ve only experienced them cold and lonely, brick walls given the chance to breathe. Therefore, I am allowed to say I rather like them— the echoed scuffle of soles so thin, ugg chug chug CLANG CLANG CLANG EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
until forever.
The silver shuttle...
remember the time we walked from south windsor to hartford on the train tracks. sat on the bridge, legs dangling over for childlike kicks, face pressed against the cold, cold steel. we watched the city lights brood and contemplate the hot, American night. homeless on the walk back screaming and fighting the dark. they scared us so we went the other way. i wore the wrong shoes for that.
sprawled out— back stretched long and heavy into the damp November grass blinking soft and slow, taking long, lazy drags off a cigarette, despair draining from your lips. you consulted the sky, left hand thrown absently over your chest, defeated and resorting to this abandonment of diligence. I admired your enjoyment of this simple, stolen moment; the way your eyes shone blue in the...
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling...”
– from On the Road by Jack Kerouac