Thoughts prior to the subway’s arrival: A Vignette
I sit on the bench where thousands of busy people sat. Some were rich, confused, happy, ugly, fat and pretty. Some had no money and just held out a cup, while their stench blended with the smell of the rubbish on the tracks. Others just waited there staring into nothingness while a tall Black man sang The Blues. He played guitar and harmonica too. The song ended. People tossed coins into his old guitar case on the floor where someone had spit before. The train on the other side of the platform arrived. It screeched like nails scraping a blackboard, but people just stood there sheepishly and indifferent. The rats ran away with a half-eaten donut on the tracks. I noticed a man with a newspaper in one hand and coffee in the other. He read and then spit on the tracks. When the train arrived, people pushed through to the other side. The man tossed his coffee cup on the floor. Stand clear of the closing doors. Ding Dong. The train left. I remained on the bench wondering why I’m still here.
Written by Mr. Evan Jacobson, October 2009
Copyright by Evan Jacobson, 2009
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