Jen Bends Walls
sublet: "I've been saying that, playa'"
I've begun my decent out of this school. I say decent because I know that by the time I leave this
university's doors I will feel much smaller than I do right now. The crowds of people in suits and briefcases parading down sidewalks like those film clips they use on 20/20. Where the people don't much look like people but herds moving and shuffling and side-stepping around each other to get where they want to be. Crashing, ocean bodies trying to keep with the current and wait for their exit brook or creek. It will be lunchtime and I will want to get a sandwich at a shop I know down the street. The line will be out the door, spilling out and disrupting the one-two-three-four movement of the people next to them in traffic. Waiting for the light to change and the car that blocks the intersection to move. There will be a soundtrack for those who move; the honk, step, shuffle, side step, asthmatic cough. So, I continue down, remembering a different sandwich shop. Only to find the same situation. So, I settle on Korean and a request for chopsticks and extra napkins.
No more escape methods. No more twelve hours of sleep on a Thursday only to wake up an hour before
