Commute Communion


8:47. Umbrella inside out. Hair static. Swollen, stagnant summer air, ready to burst. Bakery. Post Office. Gifts from the Orient. Cigarette butt in the pavement. Tangled headphones. 8:56. Tram timetable, two minutes. Tap foot. Sweat blossoms. Pit stains. Shouldn’t have worn polyester. Pedestrians. Pushcarts. Prams. Swerving cars. 8:59. Where ‘s the tram? Fuck. Exhaust fumes. Choke. Glance to your right. Man with breasts. Woman checking Iphone. Seeing eye dog. Seven year old Spiderman What’s that? Squint. Shimmering dust. Should’ve worn glasses. Silhouette. Tram? Or Truck? TRAM. Swoosh. Climb stairs. Fare evade. Window seat! Fog glass with breath. Listen to Kanye. Groove. Ipod low on battery. Shit. Watch people. Watch lady with luminous hair. A translucent swirl of white and grey. Tram slows. Thudding halt. Jostling. Man with bandana and tattoos gets on. Sits next to wispy haired woman. She edges away. Clasps her purse. Purses her lips. Rain splatters. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Droplets pelting on tin. Man in fluorescent vest is singing. ‘Flying on your motorcycle, watching all the ground beneath yoooou drop.’  Girl in Docs talks in Mandarin. Feel hungry. Remember apple! Rummage in bag. Encounter bag detritus. Deconstructed tissues. Fuzzy mints. Scrunched receipts. APPLE! Bite into apple. Crunch. ARGH, apple juice in eye! Eye waters profusely.  9:07. Late, late, laaaaaate.

Daily Post Challenge, Writing Snapshots

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