I miss the commute. Being alone with hundreds of people.
The walk from the BART parking garage to the BART platform. Passing shuttle buses, cop cars, bicyclists, panhandlers, musicians.
Lines of people weaving around the two platforms. Waiting for trains to arrive. Four tracks with trains in four directions.
People reading papers, books, phones, each other. Old. Young. Black. White. Asian. Latinx. In wheelchairs. With bikes. Professional. Casual. Hip. Nerdy. Barefoot.
Cars whizzing by on the freeway – light traffic going east, heavy traffic going west.
Slithering onto a crowded car. Backpack between my legs. Book open ready to read. Headphones on. Standing in a sea of humanity. Living.
Breathing in BO, pot, shit, stale breath, breakfast sandwiches, perfume, gum, deodorant – an intermingling cacophony of aromas.
The train lurches forward. I lose balance. Bump into people. Mouth sorry. Regain balance. Resume my book.
Each stop. People getting on. Getting off. Smiles. Frowns. Sighs. Coughs. Conversations. Games. Movies. Phone calls.
Under the bay. Into the city. Emerge in a new world. Tall buildings. Street cars. Mopeds. Scooters. Joggers. Suits. Peddlers.
Walk to an office. Ready to work.
Experiencing the vast dynamism of the human condition.
Feeling good to be alive.