BlUe.bAll.SUNday.wOrds.

Lucky me. S E V E N tube closures today. Seven out of eleven. But, I am a fortune finder. My journey? Uninterrupted by the fix of it all. Below surface, like a murder scene in the movies. Do not enter tape everywhere...luring me to tangle. The hanging paper on the wall blows that certain way, letting me know it is my turn coming up. Now that I think about it, there weren't any other turns to take near me. Indicator not needed today.

On. phew. Red upholstery dingier than usual. A bit more active than usual at this time. On this day of the sneak. I lag a moment. Trying to decide. Where. To go. To pick the best. Three girls. Party pj's. Last night's accessories. Sit like a triangle. Two more interested than the one. Annoyed. I scoot by anyway.

Then, there is him. Round and blue. No mercy on my favorite of hues. Sweatsuit. With tiny lint balls more than velcroed on. Various blues. Top.Middle.Bottom. Pants a bit short. White socks. Navy blue trainers. Sneakers. Never used for exercising. A mouth breather. Open with those lips like sausages. Not all there.

To be fair though, who really is?

He half-stands hunched as I get on and leans over to the area I was going toward. I waited. He grabbed. Adverts. For that store that looks like the Wolverine M. Groceries. Somebody had left them behind. Blue man sits back down, spanning over his three seats. He straightens the papers so the edges meet as fresh from press and sets them aside.

Now I begin to see. I look closer. His eyebrows are crossed, eyes glazed.

He is like that man I see on Saturday afternoons, well, pretty much all afternoons I am on that Roman of Roads. Sitting in the same spot. Facing the same way. Staring. With his portable radio. Always alone. He has brown on top. Blue man has gray. Both tops wild. Physiques the same. Like those striped rounds on that movie with the rabbit and the acid trip. A black hole...

Blue man sees something with intent one /(two) seats over. In between the cracks of two seats... somebody has left.... a tiny white balled up gum wrapper. It takes a couple tries for him to wipe the wrapper from his crack. Not his crack, the crack he has seen to be his. Mission.

The tiny paper ball barely bounces to the floor and rolls near his foot. Disaster. He does nOt want this by his foot. Clumsily he tries to kick it away from him. After three tries he is satisfied. A safe distance.

I am writing as if at this point I have just noticed this particular feature of this blue man...but, I admit, it was unavoidable but to notice straight away upon being seated. It was unavoidable to stop looking as well. Unprotected. Unsuspended. GIANT...like a bunch of grapes stashed. No wonder why he sat with legs at 130 degrees.

He wide-legged it off, in the opposite direction of the exit.

A bit amused, mostly sorry. I sit for one more stretch. I hope he has somebody to talk to, if he wants.

My turn. I am relieved.
Off. Back on:

My neck is like a speed bump.. where it meets. Upside down. Capital T. Instant. Hot. Diluted. Slithers down. So hot. So hot. My vacuum cleaner hose sizzles as I swallow. It hurts, like I suspect a hairball would too.. but maybe a different kind of hurt. Probably a different relation with it as well.

But, it all warms... even inside my ears.. my sternum...a unique sensation. Like on an empty belly with cold liquid. And then with a belly shake.. the liquid can be heard and felt inside. Shocking, yet expected. I remember it happening with cold o.j once- I was stunned. Thought I had a hidden talent at that single digit number that once was mine. Told my mom with glee.. had her listen. I should check if I still have that talent. I should check if my mom would still listen.

Sunny and semi-Off roading, cinnamon again. Years of paint chip away along that soft wooden windowsill. Documentation of who and whens. Ideas churn.

With this early sun(day).. the pale shines and shadows appear. I've missed them. Shadows. Glare catches me. I don't blink. I don't shade myself. The extra light, the better.

Up top, I feel big.. and simultaneously am reminded of the truth. How very small we all are.

Two huge rock-bricks on the x marks the spot. Stop. Shelter. Symbolic of the two that he is missing, down below. He shakes his head. No ramp. Not his ride. Up here I am...

Interrupted.

A young'n and suspected sitter. Double sit. Across the less than red missing carpet. The very little. Very eager. Picked his seat.. Listening, the both of us. Stories of sage from the sitter... "Sage, king of the herbs...like banana is king of the fruits."

In front. Elevated. We all have big eyes. And at about four years old.. I am doubtful he minds much.. of an herb kingdom.

Actually, it was basil... but still.