ON THE HOTTEST DAY:

On the hottest day of the year a man in a wool hat waits on the
platform drinking coffee from a mug he brought from home. He’s
festooned in headphones & wires, a low slung record bag & stubble.
A teenage girl smells up wind of a whole cosmetics department,
skinny in pastel. Concealing her complexion beneath a porcelain
veneer of city slap, heavy leather bag, half her size & three gold
clasps.
On the train, the man in the wool hat cracks his knuckles, tapping
his Apple, a smart phone with a shattered screen receives a
constant stream of messages, attracting his glances as he sniffs
& sneezes across from me. This train isn’t stopping in the usual
places, it’s ten minutes late, it’s jumping the rails. Old women
stagger off in shock when it’s stops, looking around like they’ve
arrived on  another planet – frightened & confused. They smell very
different to the porcelain girl who’s peach legs protrude into the
sun from behind the heavy grey legs of her travelling companion,
his face concealed by the news.The woolhead man peers into the tiny
shattered screen, transfixed by tiny ice skaters pirouetting in
silence.

(K)