021

its hard to breathe
when the windows are shut

and there are too many people on the train
standing huddled together
smashed up on the doors
pressed into each others bodies
stabbed by elbows and bags

one man is lucky enough to have a seat
sandwiched between two strangers

he wears a dark suit
and bloodshot eyes
he chews gum
under a white surgical mask
as a line of passengers stand in front of him
swaying gently back and forth like ghosts
not making any noise
except for the hand straps creaking on the metal bar

he takes out his phone
to make a calculation
12 x 288,000 = 3,456,000
he lets out a sigh
and puts it away

his high blood pressure
radiates through every movement

he continues to chew his gum
clenching his two floors of teeth
turning his face pink
veins popping out at his temples

he taps his shoes
in broken staccato

he bobs his knees
up and down

he folds and unfolds his arms
his comfort unrelenting

he rolls his skull on his neck
until
cracking it
like concrete

something ain’t right
someone should ask him if he’s okay

he starts rubbing one of his fingers
on his left hand
agitating a repetitive stress disorder
up and down
squeezing the joints
putting pressure on the bone
painting the skin more and more red
a prayer to soothe his ill feelings

down the line
the train reaches his destination
and stops on the platform
the doors slam open
a song plays
he gets up
and bullies his way through the crowd
before the doors close on him

TCP 24 - Keio Line

She sits quietly, peacefully, motionlessly, a photograph etched into a movie; trains and city participants, stars and city lights, architectural creations and monolithic shadows, darkness and lightness, pass in bursts of life behind her, her face frozen in a pleasant expression, the book in her hands spread and inviting.

TCP 23 - Iwamotocho

They stand, a wall between them, she standing nonchalantly, relaxed, yet somehow excited, her expression as if filled with the satisfaction of winning a game, her right arm extended towards he, on the other side. Her hair is long, simply cut. Her dress is synthetic, worn not by choice but rather by regulation, but she makes the best out of it; her socks pulled up to her knees - their red emblems perfectly aligned, the top button of her neatly pressed shirt unbuttoned - the collar spread over the neck of her beige cardigan, the sleeves of which are pulled past cuffs of her dark green blazer and over her knuckles - exposing nothing more than her finger tips. He, dressed in the same outfit - save slacks in exchange for her skirt, a certain ruggedness for her cleanliness, and a missing blazer, rests his right arm upon the chest-high barrier separating them, with his tilted head resting upon that arm, his right cheek pressed firmly upon the wool fabric covering his forearm. His left arm extends out to her right, a tear dropping from his eye and onto the sleeve of his cardigan, as he gently clasps her finger tips. She turns her head, her fingers slipping from his grasp as she walks away, her train now approaching.

020

she
stares
into
a
collage
she
made
herself

on
the
cover
of
her
diary

the faces
of
pop
idols

pink
and
white
roses

glitter
and
stars

she
brings
it
up to
her
lips
and
closes
her
eyes

taking
the
train
on
the
way
to
somewhere

019

looking up
from a book
a tiny bug
crawls over the city
speeding past

beneath her

power lines
rise and fall
like ocean waves

sunlight
shimmers
on the outlines
of buildings

concrete walls
bleed into
brick facades

chain links
and tree leaves
disguise the landscape behind

where

apartment blocks
and painted pylons
float in a confetti
of houses
as far as
the horizon

like ships
at sea

all this
she sees
beneath her

but as soon as
i look away

she disappears
into the carriage
of the train

and all that is left
is her view
which falls
like a see through cloth
over my mind

018

on a low pillar
of white concrete
she walks
in constricted circles
with her arm
around a light
which reaches
for the sky
and spreads
its metal wings

alliteration/rhyme_flex

form is frosting at a pace
recognize your face in passing
time is now but you are other places
flicker sign a selfless inside
i'm reminded many nights
lying beside
swimming sighs of blue
shade of you