stuck here

what's the matter toes? yes, that's close to a hundred steps up to the train station. steep, i know.

big, fat raindrops pound on my skull cap. there's no way this staring contest with the concrete flight of stairs' going to last another lungful of carbon monoxide drenched air.

stop the twitching. it'll be over soon.

so sorry toes- cramped there within the embrace of leather, the skin of an unfortunate cow. atleast your numb to the callous stares of strangers-clad in damp clothing. atleast you don't see how dark it is outside- the misery of the city magnified by the muffled sound of the downpour. atleast you are warm there. the little hair on my arms are standing on their ends.

but i am sorry too you are blind to the battle raging outside. so poignant the refraction of lamp lights and tail lights from the sharp sheet of rain. the gibbous moon gathers unto itself the heavy clouds. heaven is retching on this land. the gutters are giving up the dead. the secrets of this city pile up with the muck, the shame of wretched souls jaywalking, caught without umbrellas. and look at the faces of those people behind the wheel. cursing at the red light. but you know how resilient we are. third world romantics.

toes, we'll be home soon. aren't you glad i stowed those three-inch heels under my bed long ago?