strangers on a train

/bark bark bark

only mothers, people on their deathbeds, and new lovers get driven to the airport. old love gets dropped off at the * kiss ride * to begin the marta train wreck, er trek, to the airport.

i plugged in the ipod and pulled out the cam. insulated in sound and hiding behind a lens. the all seeing eye of rottie travels over landscapes of the human kind and projects meaning onto the scene. so familiar a habit, like watching tv with the sound turned off and the guitar turned on. and up. the backstabbers washes over with a groovy philly sound that fit perfectly the rhythm of trees whippping by in blurs. later come the train yards, warehouses, and chain link. the o jays blend into courtney love shrieking with authority "you should learn how to say no!"

in a brief transcendent moment i feel connected to all who rode and could not discern the end of me and the beginning of them. the one bathed in flourescent light. the young man in shabby shoes and lint in his hair bent over and frowning in concentration over a physics textbook. the figure so clear though fully clothed. the boy who couldnt keep his eyes off the teen lovers. each persons struggles and beauties hit me all at once, and in a rush of brotherly love, i turned to the window. a rare tiny sting reached my eyes. dear God!

when i returned my focus to the interior i meditated on the seat where no one would sit. somebody received some bad news today. my heart ached for everyone. our absolute fate bound us in a spiral extending into infinite journey.

as weary as the world would have us, the gift of the experience is stronger. faceted and brilliant as a diamond.

my moment of brotherly love faded as the concerns of the day passing and the one yet to begin pressed in. my whole damn future cloudy and when it wasnt, it was illusion. i smiled a secret smile. the tide of pragmatic and selfish thoughts pulled me back out to sea.

the train slowed and entered the terminus of the south rail as the riders pressed towards the doors. i dialed up anthony hamilton and prepared for the dreary slog to D1, the last gate on the last concourse. natch.

/grrrrrr


up next: my blogger adventure. i meet anuty in the real!
in the meantime, check out my dogcentric photo essay at K9P on the blogroll.