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

017

He and the train.

His head bobs with the trains bumps and curves.
He examines the text of a meticulously folded newspaper.
His eyes are fixed on the story developing before him.
He itches the top of his right ear with the index finger of his left hand.
The morning sun shines through the gaps between buildings passing behind casting bursts of light on his head.
In the course of a minute his expression gradates through confusion, depression, irritation, and boredom.
He closes his eyes for a temporary bliss.

He waits...

She and the train.

Her eyes are closed.
She carries a guitar over her shoulder.
She stares out the train's window.
She giggles with a friend.
Her eyes survey the windows reflection.
She transcends the world, encompassing herself in the world of her book.
They speak of a girl in a cabaret.
She itches her nose as a train passes behind her.
They critique her physique and work ethic as a hostess.
She stared into the monitor of her cellphone.
She sits alone on an empty train.
Her smiles shines with an empty infinity.

She says...

016

thousands of footsteps
are heard clapping
on the ground
just outside the station

a student
stands before
a map
on a signboard
unsure of where to go
in his hands
he holds another map
printed on a piece of paper
carefully investigating
matching up
the points in space
looking up
at the signboard
and down
at the piece of paper
back and forth
over and over
hoping to find
a lead

015