Tram Diary

I don’t know why, but in much the way I gain inspirational ideas from messages I read in toilet cubicles, I also gain from the simple act of taking a tram. To be honest, there’s nothing creative to it, it isn’t magical writing, it is merely the luck that I have in being exposed to certain ‘characters’ in Melbourne, and various perspectives. And at that, I would now like to introduce a new category under which I can practice my Literary Gangster skills, and that is: Tram Diary. Hope you’re having a laugh! TLG.

 

Tram Diary Entry One

Hear kapeowww    electric zest    above the beast    power-lines in jest    tram combs the road    amongst clunks    of battered motorized trash    step up inside    push through the mass    clutch a pole in the    ancient vehicle    seek a seat avoid hand rails,    high heel shoes and eye contact too    make for the rear    where one can watch the tram’s    graffiti metal lines    doodling crumbling tar    spoked-wheel species    together we inch along.

 

Would you like my seat?    ‘No, look at you on your phones, all of you, can’t get far enough away, you’re too close to me, too close girl, no I don’t want your filthy seat, now get off’.    Stumble forwards    towards tram’s head    desperate and searching for eye contact    the woman shouts more and    when the tram doors    feed me fresh air    I can’t help but think that    this schizophrenic woman has a point.    Feel kapeowww    electric zest exhales    city breath.

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