Girl on Subway

(Author's Note: I wrote "Girl on Subway" in Februrary 2009. I remember this happening, but I don't remember where I was. I've been looking through unposted blog writings and posting them...b/c basically I'm too lazy to write new posts, but since my colleagues are committed to posting to their blogs, then I will too!

We don't have a subway in Springfield, but like I said earlier, I can't remember where I was when this happened. The truth about today is this: I wasn't in the mood to bless the rain even though we so desperately needed it. I was, however, cursing it under my breath every time I loaded and unloaded my school bags, walked thru puddles, and dug around in my wet purse for my lipstick. Then I drove my car by the uncovered bus stop on National, across from St. John's Hospital, and I forgot how wet I was.)

Girl on Subway

I sat across from her.

She looked haggard and tired, like this one day alone had been longer than every day of the month in a hot August. She jumped on the subway at the last minute, barely squeezing between the doors closing shut, her shirt, recently untucked from her skirt suit. She carried her suit jacket in the crook of her left arm, an umbrella and newspaper in her hand. Her oversized bag, black and patton leather, on her left shoulder, a silver thermos in her right hand.

It's 5:43 p.m.

She was simply dressed, but wore both elegance and modernity. A grey skirt and white, collared button up. Panty hose. Gray heels. Making her way through the crowd from the door, she found the seat across from me...open. Empty.

She sat down with without pretending to be a lady. I went home and wrote her in haiku:

Digging in abyss
Rooting, scrounging, foraging
"Where the hell is it!"

Digging and sifting
Searching, Probing, Uncovering...
Chapstick from her purse.