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| If you can't take the heat, get out of the way. |
It was one of those days.
I overslept. I missed my train. I stood on the platform and hoped for summer
while the leaves forgot green. I forgot
my breakfast bar. I travelled to Euston
to catch a different train and was scolded for having the wrong ticket. I paid the difference (same destination, no?)
and rushed upstream, past the elbows and man-bags, to make my new train.
People were everywhere and, on one of those days, they all
seemed to point their annoying DNA right at me.
I felt bad. It wasn’t their fault
they were so annoying. I was annoyed by
everyone. I probably annoyed a few, too,
though and that eased my conscious just a bit.
I climbed down the stairs towards the crowded tunnel that would lead me
to my platform. The stairs came alive as
I walked against the grain. I am no
modern man, I thought. Souls tapped
alternate steps like a tramped collection of muted claps. Gloves and scarves were out, or in, and I was happy I
forgot mine. It was hot down there,
probably 80-85. How is it
possible to walk uphill down stairs?
