Faces of the morning commute. Betraying secrets.
The drinker. The stress case. The compensating one.
Occasionally, the enlightened, cutting through the masses.
Like a hot knife through vegan butter. At peace with all living creatures.
Gutters running with the
rainbow streaks of gasoline.
Faces down as the sky unloads the cherished particles. Down, down
they come. Micro prisms. Eternal. Beloved.
Vomit, needles and the debris of the unfortunate. This city.
You know it, you feel it, but then there it is and it feels like
the first time once again.
Ten years I’ve been making this trip. Ten. Divided by fifty two.
Pens on paper. Voices. Follow the plan. Stay on target.