I was waiting for the train, according to the timetable due in two minutes.
A woman yelled at her son, begging for something from the vending machine, anything, a piece of toast even! But she was whining into her cell phone I’m at the station...
Looking at my watch, it was that point in spring when half the world goes round in jackets, while the other half’s in shorts and tank tops. The earth could well come to an end abruptly, with half of us boiling, half of us in on the fire next time.
I had a book in my bag, but should I go to the trouble of pulling it out to read?
Could I concentrate for two minutes? Then abort the effort to hunt for a seat?
I was waiting for the train. Due in two minutes.
A short guy with an accordian came up the platform playing a song that brought back that restaurant I went to once in Texas, where the proprietor slept out Sunday in a hammock out back, but the policy otherwise was “all day, all you can eat.”
Sunday, May 16, 2010
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6 comments:
That is a long two minutes, in which so much happened. Imagine if you were to combine your thoughts with those of everyone else waiting for the same train, you'd probably fill an entire novel.
I'm glad you went to the restaurant.
Waiting and thinking.
Is there anything else?
a slice of life collage. two minutes in the life of the woman who was whining for toast from the vending machine, two minutes in the life of the woman with a good book in her bag, two minutes in the life of a man evoking memories for free. somewhere back home is a man who owns a restaurant wondering what it would feel like to be waiting for a train in germany.
i love the way the narrative slips between the 'real' and the 'imagined.' i wonder if there was really an accordianist.
There really was an accordionist, a short, ratty guy with unwashed hair, but a blast of fresh air among the orderly Germans.
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