deadpoettree

I caught the subway at Kipling.  It was a warm spring day around 10 am.  Not a Cloud in the sky.  That line is constantly switching from underground to above, in tunnels and out, causing the eyes to readjust whenever the light changes. She got one at the next stop. I couldn't help but stare.  Stunning radience with thick rimmed glasses and hair a soft orange colour.  She sat across from me, and began to peel an orange.  Every so often lifitng her head slightly to blow the hair out of her eyes.  I sat there feeling that I should say something. "I can smell that orange from here", I blurted out in such a way as to appear to be the biggest idi