— Operator, can you please stop the planet from spinning?
This is my station. I must get off.
— Can I just… let me just take my bag… Thank you!
— Excuse me.
— a pardon. I really didn’t see your foot.
— Excuse me!
— Yes, ma’am, I am getting off.
— I can care less about your opinion, Schmuck!
Just me, superimposed over a banal scene:
of a man,
and his heavy bag,
and an empty street.
No! Not a street, —
rather a vector of indifference.
and the silence will be the room.
and the clock will be a friend, —
caring about any particular moments.
and your eyes will be two windows
to a memory.