June 2015

June 15, 2015

Morning train as I read with wet shoes and pant legs soaked. A young woman watches with intent eyes the man drawing in a sketchbook across from her. He in black jeans and hiking sneakers. Gray hair frizzled mess in all directions. White earphone buds in his ears. Feet tapping in fast tempo and hands swirling colored pencils in circles across the pages rapidly. Fast slash blurs. She watches and he angles the sketchbook down to an angle she can see better. Her eyes calm and intent. Her hand holding the hand of the young man next to her. His shiny black boots. Scraggle beard across face. Straw hat. They with baggage coming from O’Hare. His eyes glance at the blur sketch pad. Then look up at train maps. Advertisements. Sometimes at the young woman. Sometimes at the man drawing furiously. Oranges, yellows, reds. The semblance of faces forming out of the arcs and circles. The young woman with eyes fixed on the page, her hair tucked behind ears. Sometimes her mouth opens. Sometimes she moves her feet in green Converse low tops. Coffee in the air. Wet pants. Rain cascades down train windows as we slow to stops at each station.

June 17, 2015

Reading on the train after work. We come out of the tunnel. Surface at Damen. The sky black with rain and clouds. Wind. My phone buzzes an alarm. Then everyone else’s phones buzz and beep in alarm. A weather alert. Funnel cloud, it says. Everyone looking at their phones and then up to the windows. To the sky and blowing trees. Lights smeared through water trails. Wondering. Then the tornado siren outside. Our train makes all the stops. The siren sounds. People sit waiting for their train on the opposite side of the platform. People get off at their stops. Lakes forming in yards. Rivers running through streets. Watching the sky where the funnel cloud was sighted.

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