Friday, October 11, 2013

Poetry in Motion; Fast as a Leopard

Poetry in motion (Garbanguly, Garbanguly).  With practically the whole front car to myself.  Legs sprawled out across the yellow and orange benches, with my head back against the cold silver metal arm rail rest.  With scant a soul in the subway car, I stretched across the whole row.

West of rest is sleep
east, dream
where waters meet
north, emptiness
south, wakefulness
to the stars, peace
-Jeffrey Yang

Somewhere in the middle of my bench-long lean, I looked at the sundial.  It was eleven-and-a-half.  I had a bus at noon.  I was still in Brooklyn.

It was then it dawned on me (d’aurore, d’aurore): I would probably be missing my 12 o’clock bus. 

How did I end up in this situation?  How did I not budget my time correctly?

I guess I should have probably realized it would take more than an hour glass, door to bus door.

Yes, now when I thought about it, that was probably absurd to think I could get from Crown Colony to Madison Square Garden in just sixty ticks of the watch.

There were more buses today, so I would probably have to take a later one.  They were more expensive, so perhaps a stupidity tax was coming my way.  It didn’t help the matter that I didn’t even have a ticket printed (although I did have a copy on my laptop on the desktop).  This was not going to be fun or easy.

Mind you, I hadn’t written the bus off completely.  I timed it out in my head, and with enough breaks I might be able to scurry there. 

We pulled into the bottom of the isla of  New Amsterdam just a hair under 11:40.  There were 6 stops and 34 blocks separating me from the bus.

Actually a little more because I would still have to run to the bus to catch it, and that was some blocks away.

I tightened my laces on my new kicks (which look almost the same as my old kicks).

The first three stops were close and passed in varying degrees of speed.

We left Chambers for 14th st, and for the first time a glimmer of hope re-appeared in my cabeza.  This would be a sprint to the finish, and I just might get there before the buzzer.

The song, “The Touch” by Stan Bush from the Transformers movie (the original cartoon) came on.  I put that on loop.  Perhaps the matrix would be mine.  Dare.

We pulled into the 14th st stop, just one to go.  I had twelve minutes on the clock, and twenty-some blocks separating me from the last stop.

Then the local 1 train pulled in.  Instead of pulling out, the train door re-opened for people to switch from express to local.  Ugh.  I rolled my eyes as the precious seconds ticked away. I watched the clock lose a minute, and had just eleven remaining.

But close, the doors did, and we set off.

From the vantage in front of the train, I could look through the window in the security door that separated the first car from the front control room.  In the dark distance, I could see a glimmer of light from the last station in the distance.  I watched its yellow-beige lights pull quickly closer.

We pulled in, and I tapped the door’s glass impatiently, until I was released.  And I was off. 

Like a comet. 
What are your legs? 
Springs. Steel springs. 
What are they going to do? 
Hurl me down the track. 
How fast can you run? 
As fast as a leopard. 
How fast are you going to run? 
As fast as a leopard!

Gallipoli, Gallipoli

Ok, not really. 

Let’s just say that if I was running from the undead hordes of the Zombie apocalypse, I would have been an easy corpus snack.

But I ran.  I dodged and bobbed and weaved.  I ran down, then over, then up and out. 

Quick decision time, as I had just minutes. I had one shot to make the right turns.

But I was moving fast enough, and in the right direction that I realized I was going to make it.  This tardiest explorer was going to catch his silver steed.

I arrived huffing and puffing to the bus.  The two Armenian fellows chuckled as I Huffington posted up to catch my breath and booted up my little laptop to show my ticket on the desktop.  I caught my bus and my breath.

Boludo.

But I wasn’t even the last one on.

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