PT

I first saw the faces over the shoulder of a huge African – morbidly obese, sweating and grousing into his phone as he mouthed a chocolate gelato cone. One face glowing the other withdrawn. The blackman got off at Richmond dripping and still engrossed in a subdued rant. The couple stood side by side. He strap hanging, she legs braced and electric. Smiling like a mother wolf she tucked a hair tuft behind his ear. He starred over her shoulder into infinity. Were they elicit on that train or coupled – heading workwards? She was so alive and imeadiatly predatory in her passionate affection and he was so far away. Was he worried for the collapse of The Gulf Stream or the fortunes of his pet office project involving paperclips? She – impatient to fork between cool sheets or to celebrate or display the wonder of her heart?
The moments chemistry cryptic. The formulation of the time slice unknowable. Lives are only episodic to others or when we audit our own pasts for faux purpose.
Small mystery: how could he be blasé-unburnt by the fire blazing for him or she unquelled by the chill?

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