Jan 29, 2011 21:36
sleet slouches down the side of the trolley, over an ad for a support hotline. the woman pictured, already painted morose, cries saltless tears that well up where the poster is torn. there is a parade today that wasn't canceled--the weather couldn't scare anyone off--and a blanket of umbrellas deflects one man's wetness onto another man's shoulder onto his neighbor's sleeve. all three men grind their teeth and dart out across the tracks once it's safe, once the bleary-eyed woman has shuffled past. a girl in a paperboy cap calls a string of numbers and prepositions out to the receding crowd, cupping her dirt palms around her mouth and idly kicking a puddle. a man wearing stilts and an uncle sam costume saunters the sidewalk, thankful that his feet are ten feet from the ground. the downtown bus shreds through a puddle, sending heavy spray through the hair and makeup of the no longer lively crowd, and uncle sam glances at his watch.
he'll be on time to whatever appointment, perhaps due to his long legs. the throng's frowns will fade to grimaces when they get home and smell that dinner won't be good tonight, and they'll all put on faces that reveal to their families what horrors are to be witnessed outside. wet boots go on radiators, other clothing flung meanly over a shower bar. the hiss of modern music seeping through the windows, or is that the hiss of the sleet? both equally meaningless. sounds that flex no muscle. the fundamental frequency of the city droning overhead, overheard by birds and satellites.