by the Night Writer
The train was slowing as Charlotte Church was soaring through the “The Flower Duet” in my earbuds this morning.
Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin
A la rose s’assemble
Sur la rive en fleurs riant au matin
Viens, descendons ensemble
Doucement glissons de son flot charmant,
Suivons le courant fuyant
Dans l’onde frémissante
D’une main nonchalante
Viens, gagnons le bord
Où la source dort et
L’oiseau, l’oiseau chante.
Framed by the sliding doors, the Nicollet Mall station and the faces of other commuters came to a stop and I felt as if I was in the opening, establishing scenes of some movie; a sensation heightened by the sound of the contrapuntal jackhammer jacking past the earbuds as I stepped onto the platform.
Is it a drama? A mystery? A romance? I wonder who is playing me?
Ah yes, the jackhammer bird. Very common in downtown Minneapolis! But I’m wondering, whose hand were you holding as you stepped ashore?
“…whose hand were you holding as you stepped ashore?”
Drama? Mystery? Romance? All of the above?
Ensemble!