Sunday, September 18

Train Travel (1)

Headphones in my ears. The radio lost signal. White noise. At least no one bothers me. The man next to me gets up, gets out, comes back in, sits down. I have to move my feet to make room for him each time.
A fraction of a song. "We both know we ain't kids no more...." All the songs are about you. White noise.
He gets up again, kicks my foot and looks down at it as if at a weird wild animal that jumped at him. He doesn't look up at me. Doesn't apologize. My foot is a separate entity.
The kid behind me says the boogieman took his teeth. I hate kids. No, I don't hate them. I just don't like them. That's not the truth either, but my feelings concerning children are too complicated to be explained or understood by anyone.
Comes back, sits down. I stretch my feet again.
All these people going nowhere.

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