March 29, 2006

Waiting for the Friday afternoon train, I sat on the bench facing the tracks. There was a man there, in his 40's perhaps, carrying a large backpack and wearing a hat. Looked like a sherpa, really. We stood next to each other checking the schedule, reviewing the time the train was expected to arrive, making sure we hadn't missed it. It seemed that 1:07 had passed, but the train was not yet here.
I sat down on my bench again. The sherpa walked in front of me towards the man standing to my right by the tracks. He asked him if the train had been here yet.
"No...it's late", was the man's reply.
Walking back, there was a loud "POP!" when the man stepped directly in front of me. His foot had broken a glass vial that lay on the ground, but he didn't seem to notice and continued walking.
A few minutes later, from my left again, came a blind woman with her dog. I moved over on the bench and said "Hello."
Sitting down, she asked me if the train had been by yet. Like the man, I told her it was late. There was some very brief discussion about it from the man by the tracks.
The thing about this woman is that she reminded me vividly of my best friend from middle school, who is blind. We're still in contact and she happens to still live near that train station. These women have in common not only very similar eyes and facial features, but also a clear love for animals.
The southbound train came by and I sat on the second floor. I put on my headphones, turned on some music, and looked out the window at the fleeting display of light, color, movement, shadow and shape. The conductors came by to ask for tickets, but as usual, they didn't notice me, despite standing right below me talking for 5 minutes.
Train windows - fluid view. Continuously changing deep detail, flyer mind.
Graffiti - "HINDU" on the soundwall.
Man blowing leaves, slowly.
Lot of only with tall, green grass.
Sitting dog, staring at the moving metal lozenge.
Yard filled with old cars, rainrotten with open hoods.
Pulling up to a station, there's an old man sitting on the ground with his chin propped up in his right hand. Nervously, but with curious grace, he picked his nose and chewed on his fingers.

Walking down the stairs from the platform to the large brick train station, I noticed the sherpa walking in front of me. Standing outside, waiting for a friend I hadn't seen in months, I noticed the different kinds of attention I got by standing in different places. Everyone's eyes were drawn to me when I stood in the open, so I blended in to a tree by a bus stop. The only person who noticed me there was a man, probably Indian, but perhaps Nepalese or Tibetan, who asked me for directions but to whom I could only suggest he look inside the station for a map or bus schedule.