"Whatever. Is there some sort of game we could play by describing people on the U-Bahn to sharpen these neural pathways?"
the one full of doomed-for-life Handwerker
Waiting only for the sweet release from their drudgery
Found in booze and the thought of potentially
swimming drunk and naked with other men's overbaked wives
during that upcoming summer camping vacation...
interspersed amongst their other disgruntled seat-fillers:
a clone army of fleshy Frauen who have
made frumpiness a religion for which they embark on a daily pilgrimage.
Hin... und zurück.
Independently travelling kids play, joke and tease each other as
solumn teenage girls are either are glued to their handheld devices
or greeting each other as if they are headed to a funeral, kissing each other on
both cheeks- sometimes thrice-
in a train which operates on the same dull throb of the festering pathways of
Oscar the grouch's Monday morning brain. Every. single. day.
No fucking wonder Patti Smith's Just Kids seems like some holy relic...
If I am too tired to read I listen to Wait Wait, Don't tell me and laugh out loud
Only to receive death-ray stares from my fellow drones
Because anyone having any fun
Disturbs the silence of their brooding, abominable, precious rühe.
(Note on the (con)text:
The subject was a suggestion/request from a dear friend, to which I began a simple response... Which took a turn for the strange... And resulted in the above rant.)
Labels: U-bahn Berlin