gulls after a storm

Tuesday, November 21 a beeping small clock, awake, turn of the sound. The tablet computer is making its strumming sounds as well. Silence! Shower, brush the teeth, comb the hair, back to the hedroon, put on the clothes left out yesterday. Pack the bag, leave the house.
There are grey refuse containers in front of all of the houses in the street.. So return to the yard, take the bin by the handle, and roll it out to the front of the building.
Let it wait there for the bin men, they will be there in two hours.
At the church, a man with a big white dog, still a puppy, but large, long legged. The man is wearing a hat.
It is a few minutes earlier than usual, there are delivery trucks moving about on the main street, and in the side streets. They are bringing fresh stock for the shops and cafes.
At the deserted bus stop settle down on the bench, and take out the book and the pen. Start the daily notes, sit there, the bog cotton man walks by, a trail of white cigarette smoke following him. Then Dolores, she sits down on the other side, the other end of the bench.
The bus arrives, pay the driver his money, and find a seat beyond the bellowed bend in the bus. There is a young women there, tying up her long hair in a knot the top of her head. she smiles, look back down the bus, past the bellows point, there are people in the backward- facing seats. A young man, "very dark skin, curly black hair. He is wearing bright clothes and a cautious expression on his face. All going to work, all early risers. This is a forgotten time of day,the time when people who have strange jobs, or who's way to work is longer, are underway.

At the cafe the coffee is free, exchange for the card with the ten stamps on' it. A new card, and leave the mass of impatient people at the counter.

Sit in the waiting room listen to the clamour of the service people colling ot the orders, asking if there is anything else, the thanks and polite felicitations of a service occupation. Hundreds of Good Mornings", "Large coffee", "Small coffee", "Marlboro","L&M","Pretzel","Salmon roll", Sausage Roll", a clamor in the background, High inquiring voices, like bird song, a thing to fall to sleep to, like the calls of gulls after a storm. The expatriate dreams of a walk along the Bull wall., in Dublin. There are gulls there too, looking for scraps, drifting in the wind. At six, it is time to leave for the train AS every day, gather the rambling thoughts and pack them away. get on with the business at work.