In a million years they
will still not have made the voice of the conductor any clearer.
I am still on the tram. I looked out the window at the last stop and saw
that we were at the Macy's quartermile. Now I know that I have two stops
left. But I am still thinking what will I do.
I am still thinking what will I do when a blonde-headed woman sits in
the seat next to mine and I have one stop left. She has a book which means
to me that she will be on this tram for a long time so perhaps she works
at the Macy's quartermile during the evenings when I am asleep and now
she is on her way home and I am on my way to my desk full of drawers.
She has green eyes. I like to think of her working while I am asleep or
cooking myself dinner or watching television. I
like to think of her carrying her black bag to her post behind the
scarf counter and settling in for the night while I am scanning my barcode
in the lock and entering my room and thinking what will I do.
I like her. I want her to be in more of this
book.
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