3 steps down from the station exit
She sits in transitoriness
Observing the tides of the human soul
Pouring through the gates.
Quarter past the hour;
They arrive in waves, flooding into the open air like so many droplets in water
Each molecule thrumming with the vibrancy of life.
A sense of effervescence fills the air
in these short flurries of activity
As Passengers arrive
In the blink of an unwatching eye-
They fall into the mass of the city,
disintegrate into shards of motion and colour only
losing their individual forms.
But wait just one moment;
Pause and observe.
Find some battered bench, or alcove to perch in, or step to lounge on
and Allow yourself
Give yourself one small,
Begin to hear,
Braids swing with gentle movement
silver cuffs glinting in the sunlight-
A head thrown back in full, rich laughter,
Rumbling in joyous tones.
Bags bounce against the curves of thighs,
Keys jangling, clattering
Like the hum of contradicting melodies
through many tinny headphones,
the music made alien
by it’s distortion.
Smoke curls from fingers
Which then raise drinks to mouths,
Which then gesture for cabs as hands rise ever upwards-
Humanity flitters through the streets
Around edges of silent stone and roaring metal,
As life pours on
Quarter to- The next train pulls in
and 3 steps down from the station exit
she sits in transitoriness
welcoming the tides of human soul
pouring through the gates.