on a wednesday

Stood for a bus on a highway off-ramp, wind so strong my shirt was flashing my belly, sand in my eyes and cars whipping past. Then on the bus where I can smell ten different people and feel the heat of three for a ride through this foreign neighborhood. Seeing all of the different people, the cans of beer tucked into brown paper bags, the sweat beading on people's foreheads and soaking in the smalls of their backs. Then on the metro, staring at the dried puke on the sliding door and that man who is leaning right into it, talking animatedly to his wife, unknowing. Then emerging back up via escalator to the sounds of a busker playing 'heart and soul' on an electric guitar, only it took me a few seconds to place it but now it's right in my head. Skin feels greasy and dirty and I'm sweating still in the air conditioned library, but I feel like my head is put on straight and I feel that familiar giddiness that comes from deep in my chest and must be expelled and so I keep laughing and sort of day dreaming about jumping into Lake Huron.