Today, it is all motion, inside and out; a den of idiosyncrasy:
A man speaking awful fast about new fibre optic TV
A woman who tears the newspaper, long and luxuriously, over and over, as if everything is fascinating
A right snoring fellow, short enough to lay himself flat out on the seats, startling with his snorts
This lady loves her dentist, hates her hygenist
This guy's coughs are classic cigarette + chest cold & may only lift in May
And remarkably, I'm drifting along in peace over all of it, banana peel draped over my thigh, unopened yogurt in dangling hand, part of the fresco, nodding off myself
Letting the glorious machine run all the way downtown in its vivid completeness.
In the evening, two dudes sit facing one another, each with a hot, fragrant pail of poutine, and I feel like asking them:
Where were you guys this morning?
