washwords

There are leaners out there in the world. Always leaning too close, on the bus, on the Metro, pushing their heads and backpacks into your chest and face, stopping you from breathing.

Sometimes they’re fidgeters in disguise, reaching into their pockets, thrusting their arms and legs like wayward rockets, pretending they don’t see you in their path.

There are also:

• gum-chompers
• agitated yellers
• sorority gigglers
• dancing drunkards
• the swayers
• the standers
• the surly faced
• the pretentious space-takers
• the umbrella spinners,
• the heavy sprawlers.

I long for peace, still-sitting, gentle-speaking buses filled with zen and calm and space.

“yeah but it still doesn’t work”

“Jeff? Yeah, I got something for you. Monday, Monday.”

“I’m getting a message that it’s been resolved. Yeah, yeah, but, it hasn’t.”

“to protect our side as much as the other… so maybe if we agressively market, on all three, right close on all three places…”

“hello yes, how are you? Yes, may I speak with Meg? Yes, Megan. Meg.

Hi Baby, how are you. yes, everything is fine. Well once we got to explain it to them. Well no, no, but once we got to explain it to them, I got a really good feeling. Well yah, no, not really. Yeah. yeah. Okay.”