The Sound of the plexiglass is extra 'staticky' today...
maybe it's because I chose the last cart on the train in the hopes of it being less occupied-
two stops down the line and now I have fellow backseat dwellers who display the same message that I currently wear around my neck, "leave me alone."

Bits and pieces of the Friday morning rush hour still linger around the seats and floor of my swaying caboose. Sticky and dried up puddles of sugar and cream that probably had a few dollops of coffee mixed in at one point now shines in the reflection of the sun like a frozen lake in the middle of a winter dressed forrest somewhere in the middle of Michigan.

Shreds of the Daily Metro headlines chopped and torn up-
pointless news in the form of contaminated confetti.

I gnaw nervously on the edge of my dried and cracked lip...my thoughts carry a serious tone upstairs as i inform myself, "I'm dehydrated. I should probably increase my water intake and cut out the other fluids that seem to have taken its place. Ya, I should do that."

A tweaked out boy that's dressed in a mans body is pacing back and forth in a fashion that makes my own leg begin a tap dance. Our train is obviously tired as it's sitting still with the doors open allowing a nice breeze from the JFK/UMASS loading dock to ease its way into my little caboose. Tweaker is obviously upset by this, "Yo, I'll be there in like seven minutes Man. I've got the fucking shit!" He's overly loud on his cellphone, his words sloppy and misconstrued in a thick 'Southie' dialect. It's apparent that 'Boy Dressed in Mans Body' has a deal he needs to make at Downtown Crossing...I'll be sad to see him go. Actually, no I won't.

My train is back in motion and has slithered its way underground...I hate the tunnels. The sound of this heavy machinery has no where to travel to other than it bouncing off the hundred year old walls that are covered in soot- caveman like markings in the bright orange x's and blue squares...our construction cavemen are always busy at work with new projects scattered throughout this entire city. Job Security. "Me mark X on tunnel C3. Me Build stronger rails." Construction caveman then throws a clinched fist on the muscle of his chest.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection on the clear window with the in motion polluted wall running behind it. Serious tone goes back on, "You look like shit. Messy girl, with messy hair. Obviously I'm wearing another message around my neck- 'I don't care what I look like.' Well done, you certainly don't."

My eyes dance to the current stop- Park Street. The trains doors open, first the ones to the inside dock. Suddenly, as expected, a damn of human beings has broken- they flow in, now it's crowded and smells even less pleasant than it did just moments ago. Two more stops, then everyone looks at me like I'm the asshole. I'll make my way to the door that will have even more humans fighting to get on, and I, along with other robots on automatic "get off now" will try to fight our way off. Lil' Red (my bike) will be on my left side, my hand guiding her as it rests on the top part of her head where the handle bars bridge out like a bulls horns curled over and ready to take charge at a red flag in the distance..."Excuse me...coming through. 'Cuse me-"

And here comes my stop...

"Excuse me...yup, hi. Like to get off please...comin' through..ya. How ya doin'? Great, I'd like to get by you now. Helllllo- thanks."

Deep breath- pick up bike. Walk up 37 steps, get on bike, go.