21 September 2016
Sleep so badly, then the sleep is deep.
And then the day has to start
Up, around the corner, to the shower. Refreshing. Do not
shave today, there is no time. No time to spend on things like that.
'The cat comes, it wants attention. Then, need to search for
the watch.
Oh, there is no time.
Oh, there is no time.
There it is, on the small cupboard beside the bed. Good.
The street, alleys between old houses. All renovated,
proud owners, now the rich live here again.
The bus stop, the man with the bog-cotton now tied back white hair
, Dolores. Good Morning.
Aboard the bus there is the one young woman at the
back of the bus who is putting on her makeup for the
day, and one young girl with rastafarian dreadlocks,
a very pale girl.
The bus lurches about as it drives along, arrives at the
station. There is the smoker with his pigtail, standing
on the edge of the yellow square marked on the
pavement with road - marking paint. That is the area reserved for cigarette smokers.. They are not permitted to enjoy their habit
elsewhere, but this is generally disregarded, and they
smoke out of doors wherever they please.
The indian girl is serving today, she is slow, but
friendly. Everyone gets their order, so all is well.
The girl with the Rastafarian locks, matted blonde
hair, is stirring her coffee, letting others wait
untill.-..
Then she sees that there are people waiting, and
moves over to the side of the stand with all the
sugary condiments.
Place a lid on the coffee and go to the usual place
at the table, the table small, tall and round. the broken television shows flickering pictures of
Islamic terrorists, all young men. Something has
happened again. Somewhere.
On the platform, the train rushes in, and just
keeps on moving. A man in livery explains that
this was the second part of the train, confusing today-
the first comes last.
There is no explanation for this...
Board the part of the Train that now comes into the
station at last.
As always.
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