Wed 3.9.2014
gas meter repair is a tricky thing, the coins fall into a slot, move mechanical things. The gas meter in the shed is a particular one. It has electronics in it. These beep when coins are put in. Beep Beep.
It is five a-m, time for a tablet, a shower, an end of idiotic dreams. Thirty years ago there was a encounter with a gas meter, in a flat in Dublin. It definitely had no electronics in it.
Down the stairs, out past the yellow bags put out last night, down the dark street.
The bus stop is deserted. Three shop workers pass, Talking shop. Man and two women.
No smoker today. The young man at the cafe is getting faster every day..
The Hedgehog waits, and soon the woman in black arrives with her newspaper. Then the handbag girl, in blue jeans today. A strangr man dressed in a black working suit with short trousers talks to the Hedgehog, gives none money.
The mosaic maker comes, and they all go.
The train is a little late, but it does not matter to anyone. The trains window shows a man sleeping, wearing a black suit with a black waistcoat, gold watch chain and a paisley tie. This man
is a first class passenger.
Leave Landshut in a dim twilight today, the fluorescent light of the carriages interior glaring against the dim blue of the oncoming day.
Moosburg is still dimly lit, again fluorescents everywhere. A huge: orange and yellow sign advertises a supermarket.
A man sits down opposite, a young man, black- rimmed glasses, of most tidy appearance. He is a bit like a onetime minister for defense here. He reads his newspaper, a weekly one. By appearance he takes it with him every day, for almost a week now. A dog-eared newspaper
The day is tighter now, the sky wintry blue grey, dim and depressing. It looks damp.
No comments:
Post a Comment