what i saw on route 9
In riding the 9 to the art supply store on Saturday, I came across a great many things which all deserve a spot of light, in their own unique, yet somehow related, ways. When life forces you out of your habitual car and into public transit, you see things with a new set of eyes.
Here are the wonders I beheld on a 6-mile bus ride down Reno:
-A squiggly stream running down and through an uneven, grassy green lot. The stream ran under a bridge, which we crossed. There were tiny flowers all around. It looked like I could have been in Narnia, flying over in a biplane. I imagined it so.
-A round, rusted-over metal plate in the ground with “INFO” painted on it in white paint. I wondered what information would be so over-conspicuously placed that it seemed, in fact, inconspicuous. Mysterious.
-A great many piles of retired cars in front of a powder-blue garage. I wished I could learn auto mechanics from those dark men with even darker hands. Or at least ask for their leftover blue paint. It was an ethereal kind of color.
-A very large diesel tank that pulled up next to us. It was right in my face. This close.
-A brickyard, which made me think of someone, a man, who said, “Yow! What do you have in that purse, bricks?”, to someone else, a lady, who replied, “Yes. I pick them up as I find them throughout the day; they’re for my garden path. It's a work in progress. Sorry about your head.” I keep thinking this is either Anita of 100 Dalmatians, or Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, but I know I'm wrong.
-A square-ish cluster of trees. If they had been in a frame, you'd have thunk you were in a forest. It was a forest to me.
-Another stream that was shallow, with grasses and little weed growths peering through the surface of the water in parts. It may as well have been an African river.
I wore a charcoal tee, black jersey leggings, a metropolitan silver-grey jersey jacket with a spiffy stand-up collar, and capable brown leather sandals (so I could run in case I got mugged, of course).
Over-sized, lightweight tote bags seem to be a necessity when you're a commuter. You need easy access to your goods at all times while staying able to carry no less than your purse, at least one book (count on it being a hard-back), market flowers, trail mix, maps, paint brushes, and pipe tobacco. For 7 hours at a time. The fake canvas bag from the library already has a hole in it. No doubt it was the baguette what did 'er in.
Here are the wonders I beheld on a 6-mile bus ride down Reno:
-A squiggly stream running down and through an uneven, grassy green lot. The stream ran under a bridge, which we crossed. There were tiny flowers all around. It looked like I could have been in Narnia, flying over in a biplane. I imagined it so.
-A round, rusted-over metal plate in the ground with “INFO” painted on it in white paint. I wondered what information would be so over-conspicuously placed that it seemed, in fact, inconspicuous. Mysterious.
-A great many piles of retired cars in front of a powder-blue garage. I wished I could learn auto mechanics from those dark men with even darker hands. Or at least ask for their leftover blue paint. It was an ethereal kind of color.
-A very large diesel tank that pulled up next to us. It was right in my face. This close.
-A brickyard, which made me think of someone, a man, who said, “Yow! What do you have in that purse, bricks?”, to someone else, a lady, who replied, “Yes. I pick them up as I find them throughout the day; they’re for my garden path. It's a work in progress. Sorry about your head.” I keep thinking this is either Anita of 100 Dalmatians, or Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, but I know I'm wrong.
-A square-ish cluster of trees. If they had been in a frame, you'd have thunk you were in a forest. It was a forest to me.
-Another stream that was shallow, with grasses and little weed growths peering through the surface of the water in parts. It may as well have been an African river.
I wore a charcoal tee, black jersey leggings, a metropolitan silver-grey jersey jacket with a spiffy stand-up collar, and capable brown leather sandals (so I could run in case I got mugged, of course).
Over-sized, lightweight tote bags seem to be a necessity when you're a commuter. You need easy access to your goods at all times while staying able to carry no less than your purse, at least one book (count on it being a hard-back), market flowers, trail mix, maps, paint brushes, and pipe tobacco. For 7 hours at a time. The fake canvas bag from the library already has a hole in it. No doubt it was the baguette what did 'er in.
Comments