. .prosodic arson. . . . . . .(header pic tribute to Zilon).

Alone is sitting on a subway train filled with people all ineluctably linked by form, flesh, needs, names and this big city we have all taken to be our home, not so much as looking at one another. We lighten our breathing so as to be less obtrusive. We cast our gazes down about the filthy ground so as not to chance-meet the eyes of another. Hello to a stranger on the same train [in the same boat] is a mortal wound to the dogma of today. Yet, we remain globally linked as all these wonderful machines have chipped away at miles and turned them into fractions of time. There is more distance in a physical inch than there is in a hundred-thousand telecomm. miles.
I catch myself smiling at infants in the tender arms of mothers or being pushed gingerly in their prams. I smile surreptitiously so that only the child can see – so that s/he might not become jaded quite so quickly. I’d like to keep it a secret from our children that we all hate each other so that they may grow up knowing nothing but smiles and give each other no less. I’m sure they would figure it out quickly enough, but if they grew knowing nothing but kindness why would they accept the glibly hateful past? Then maybe we could turn the trains on their ends and everyone would smile in a not so distant future. One day before the sun goes out. But that all just seems like a nursery rhyme.
So, in light of being fed up, in light of making a fool of myself, in light of summer days I have decided to smile on the subway as much as I can. I’ll smile at children and their mother’s, I’ll smile at pretty girls and not so pretty girls, I’ll smile at bums and thugs, I’ll smile at business men and women no matter how much of a hurry they are in. I’ll try and smile no matter how awful the day and maybe, just maybe, someone will smile back – a simple smile: no paint, no mocking derision. When that happens, I’ll know someone else feels the same way as I do.