riding on the BART train

The sun makes me squint. I think about the wrinkles that will show up later, but there is nothing to be done. I am surprised that I am not nodding off. Perhaps the extra sleep I got two days ago is fueling my consciousness now. The sounds of the train -- the screeching, the computerized voice -- are muffled by my earplugs. I love my earplugs. They are fluorescent green soft foam and come in their own orange case.

We enter the Transbay Tube. I have not noticed a sign or anything. The lights in the tunnel zoom by. Occasionally, there are gaps. I don't think about what's outside the tunnel usually. Sea monsters, old tires, perhaps a dead body.

Most people are reading, sleeping, or listening to their headphones. I wonder what worlds they've created for themselves. I imagine that many are enjoying their own private concert. Maybe someone is listening to a story or a sermon. I picture a translucent sphere around each of them and think of what images and sounds would fill them.

My bubble would be filled with z's if I weren't writing. It's a half-sleep where part of me stays awake to hear station announcements. On one occasion, that part deserted its post and I wound up three stations north of my stop.

Another tunnel. More lights. More screeching. Now I am getting sleepy. At least I made it to 16th Street.