Monday, December 6, 2010

From Queens...


From Queens, the city is an emerald shining from afar. The early morning rays of a golden Sun glisten on thousands of tiny mirrors and reflect back at you. They are a mere twinkle in your eye. The pointy peaks and angled canopies of this metal forest get bigger as you approach aboard a rickety silver machine, passing ethnic neighborhoods as diverse as the world itself. There's the China-man standing next to you with the horrible breath, the Ecuadorian bundled up in a hoodie, face barely visible, the red-headed Mormon reading the Book of Latter Day Saints. You are all headed into the Emerald city to perform some seemingly necessary function that keeps it well oiled and operational. You look around. Some are yuppie suits with office jobs. Others work in restaurants, or in retail. As the train rattles over its skeletal bridge, you glance down at the morning paper with barely enough room to hold it in front of you. This could be any day, why does it have to be today? Your iPod is almost dying. Why does it have to be now? The doors open and let out the masses. Finally you have a chance to read the paper properly. You glance to your peripheral vision. Could this be a seat that has opened up? No, it's too good to be true. It'll be snatched up before you walk over to it. But it isn't. It's still available. You hesitate. Do you really need it as much as the old lady who just walked in? Why don't you let her have it? Keep reading the paper. There a conflict in Korea. The economy still stinks. You think about your job for a moment. Could it be worse not having one? Could you actually be the lucky one who is going to a job? Could your reality be someone else's dream? Then suddenly you realize you're not in Queens anymore. You're in the city. Hurry up and get to work young man, you'll be late.

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