Wednesday, November 8, 2017


Closed stops and service maintenance are the bane of the weekend rider. Getting somewhere fast, you're screwed. A simple trip from A to B will likely mean a forward or a backward shunt on D or E or F.  Elevated, with no deadline to meet, I'm in heaven. The N's so slow the views are narcotic and the dullness of the glass on the windows and the doors makes the colors of the outside world placid and restrained.  The edge is off the city. Each rooftop takes its own sweet time arriving and departing. Each piece of the sky lingers in my head longer.  I could dream up here til Monday.

No comments: