Sunday, April 7, 2019

...the interview... pt II

...the subway was pulling into the platform... half a block and 3 long staircases below the aboveground platform, Jungle gave the old subway sprint, taught to him by his older brother, father, and grandfather... all of whom ran for their lives since they were born... jungle didn't mind his chest imploding, as he reached the final set of stairs, excited by the clash of announcements - from the conductor - stand clear of the closing doors ; from the toll booth clerk - pay your fare you hoodlum!...

...the doors were 2 inches from closing when he dove in... feet first... like he were stealing a base, and the catcher bulleted the ball to the 2nd basemen who reached for the ankle of the stealing-base runner... the doors closed, and he nearly leaped up to celebrate if his thick wad of long hair wasn't stuck in the door...

... by queensboro plaza, jungle was in a seat all to himself, as he might've resembled a homeless man with a suit three sizes too big, and charred by dumpster diving, from the sliding in...

...lost in thought about how he would explain the newly acquired stains on his outfit, jungle didn't notice that the train doors were still opened and hadn't moved in five minutes...

...conductor: ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience, please be advised that we still have a sick passenger in the train in front of us... blah blah blah...

...holding tight to a crystal that a tarot reader gave him, he closed his eyes and imagined time standing still as the sick passenger was taken off the train and served 100 lashes for getting sick, and fined $1000 for being so inconsiderate... 

...the subway failed to budge when h opened his eyes... jungle reluctantly looked at his phone, there was five minutes to the  interview... the 7 train to Manhattan was pulling in across the platform...




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