On the train again. Going away this time. It’s the earliest I’ve been up in a while. Still dark, I saw myself in the window, blobs and shapes of things whiz by. I’m a little sick to my stomach maybe hungover. We only had two pints, even at my birthday we had more. There are people around me but we don’t speak. A man's hat lays on his bag almost resembling a person slumped over and sleeping. But the flight was so cheap. Although this ticket costs a lot. I should have updated my card. My new ID didn't match the picture. There was a small amount of granola in my pocket from my breakfast. I take these pieces in my hand remove my mask and popped them in my mouth. Theres no way that theres a coffee cart. Not now. I search my bag but only more pieces of granola and a bottle cap are left. There was a moment before I left that I felt like I shouldn't go, too many things. There was a chance though that maybe it would be ruined. I am sure it will be fine when I return. When I return. Its always different though, things are greener maybe bluer. Things will change like step smoothed by walking over years, or a rock in a river will be smoothed out with time. Little by little.
especially when you've been subdued by two pints.
i remember a friend of mine who could drink monstrous amounts. and then one day he drank just two weak american beers and he became so drunk and hungover.
sadly he couldn't drink much after that. he took years to recover.
today he still hasn't fully
Having the reflective states provided by the commutes -- walking/sitting-on-the-subway -- scaffolds a new life cadence impossible in the suburbs.