subway season

There are clammy handprints all over the poles, and every inhale brings in second-hand, rusty air. People’s body temperature gets confused as they sweat under their jackets, and go out on the breezy streets to uncomfortably dry up.They are all hunched back and nervous. Most of them are listening to their ipods, drafting texts and emails on their mega-phones, or doing Sudoku.



I wonder how we used to commute before and what it meant. I picture the adventurous roads we used to discover, and as I close my eyes I imagine that the noisy clash between the metal body of the train and oily rails, is in fact the sound of a horse trotting rhythmically on a stony street.

Then I realize its my stop, and embarrassed from my romantic delusions, I put on my favourite song and swiftly exit.