"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Friday, April 20, 2012

Not a holiday

Day 20: Write a traveling poem, focusing on the sights and sounds of the trip as well as your mental state and the state of things around you.

This is all part of some mutual agreement, I think,
though I've never seen the actual paper contract.

Something about

understanding that while we are here, we are not
talking, breathing loudly, or making sudden movements.
It's a well-known fact that daily commuters are like
wild animals, prone to lash out at the slightest provocation.

Glare through the windows, despite the specks of dirt,
obliterates any lingering morning fuzziness before the train
reaches it's destination, before the bing and the driver's
announcement - and then it's a shuffling hustle to the stairs.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
LCD Soundsystem, All I Want

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