next stop, green square

I’m on a train headed towards green square, amongst other places. I just transferred from a leppington train headed towards newtown. Whenever I see that name I feel nostalgia, followed by longing and a long list of what-if’s for a place that used to be my home.

I sat in the vestibule area on the leppington train, only two stops til my intermediary destination. There were two other, older ladies sitting opposite me – lovers or childhood friends, maybe. They spoke in that disjointed, half sentence speak that only life long companions do.

They each had on a patterned over shirt, and the one on the left was constantly fidgeting, crossing one foot over her ankle, then untangling, resting her arm on the railing, then placing it in her friends hand.

Behind them, the world looked like it was being pulled along a conveyor belt. Stagnant, cartoon clouds against a blue-blue sky, and trees that rolled and crawled on by. For a few moments it felt like the train was standing still, and it was the world around it that was moving.

I’m familiar with that feeling.

I woke up this morning feeling tired in my bones, which is a different kind of tired than regular tired. It wants to stay in bed all day and not move and not think. But even if you follow its rules, it doesn’t dissipate.

So, despite the tired, I am on the train, my second one for the day, and I am on my way to see some friends, and maybe if I move and move and talk and laugh, the tired will evacuate my marrow and I will wake up tomorrow and feel a little lighter.

By em

a sometimes poet, sometimes painter, always philosopher

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