***
The girl sits, her face twitching. A spasm? Or perhaps mouthing motions...
replaying a conversation, acting out the dialogue partially with her body,
her eyes closed.
A young Apollo, or perhaps Orpheus, with dark shirt and dark-washed jeans sits close,
clutching CDs in hand. First determined and then just sleepy. Or perhaps fake-sleepy, because he is aware he is being watched.
Ah, his eyes open for an instant, his gaze focused on me until I look up, when his eyes quickly dart to the side.
The two young girls at the other end of the car sit sprawled out, their hair down. They take turns swigging from two water bottles.
One filled with orange juice, the other filled with what must be vodka. My eyes linger too long and they both glare defiantly. So sexual and impatient, even the way they tug their hair as four boys get on.
Another girl in the middle rubs her temples with one hand and scrolls
through her ipod with the other. Trying to find a soothing melody to drown out the voices of the eager twenty-somethings and underage party-girls at the other end.
A woman with glasses reads a book, the cover of which I cannot quite make out... a travel book? Two women with children in strollers get on at Davisville as I talk to Danielle on the phone. They sith with a man in a baggy sweat-suit. Their hands start to w h ir l in the air and I realize
they, or at least one of them, is deaf. The man also enters the handspeak dialogue. A gentleman sitting in front of me gets up to return the hat of one of the children to her,
her mother did not hear the noise she made as it fell. They exchange smiles and the man goes back to his seat. He and his lady-friend continue to smile and discuss the child in the stroller. Her eyes are so large and curious,
I wonder if she has already started learning sign language.