Thoughts, through a train window…

 

“…With two tickets torn in half

And a lot of nothing to do

Do you miss me, Miss Misery,

Like you say you do?…”

 

Counting the lights, the trees, the lovers, the people, the neighborhoods, the cities, as I go by.  The math suggests that the average yearly train delays in Japan is only about a minute. The trick is, I know, on the way you average. Cause, every morning my commuter rapid stops a dozen time in-between stations, waiting for the trains already on the upcoming station, to keep moving. And I am always late. And the Ms. K., the secretary raises eight fingers to remind me of what time I was supposed to be there. Paper memories. Yeah, I know. The teachers are supposed to come before the students.

So, Ms. Misery, did you add all the card you can play? Is it a zero-sum game?  Why do I have this image of you laying your head on my shoulder? Why do I embrace your chocolate skin so easy?

TV lights flashing, a little sign of life, I could swear I saw this ghost town in a magazine, years ago, but really, though, do you miss me, Miss Misery?

“If I had to, I could slip over that gate, and spent the night in that corner over there”, I think to myself, “the nights aren’t that cold and the rain cannot reach there”. Something happened when I was a child and now, I always think, if my home is gone, where would I spend the night? There is not enough poison in the world, to make these thoughts go away.

You said your lenses were prescription, but why do you have that shining green, is it just for Halloween? Mesmerized, I touch you chin, to redirect your eyes. And I wake up, by passengers getting off. Miss M., were you happier when you taught English in your church? Did you feel better speaking to God through color painted windows?

Here is a fact for you, Japanese trains are not as punctual as the myths suggest, especially not the local lines and especially not the Chuo line. Yet, yearly, around 18 billion people are carried on Japanese trains, meaning the rail systems carries the word population equivalent about 2.6 times over. And that’s impressive enough.

It’s November, sweetie. I smoke your cigar and give you a ring. You don’t pick up, you’re green lenses keep watch from the lens’ case on top of your drawer. Your purple bra, half in-half out of the top shelf. Your arm is stretched under the pillow, your eyes closed. We made it through another night. Do you miss me, miss Misery?/*54745756836*/