Dawdle
By Chad Calease • January 1st, 2008
he just stood there watching the flight of birds as they flew through and the train pulled away which would have us believe he didn’t need to get on but what else would he do with all the conductors raising their eyebrows at him? what would he be doing there? must be waiting for someone else? there he stood hearing sounds of the shoes on the wood clackity on the steps and there he is he’s watching them miss their train.
down the platform he moves leisurely past more who will have to wait
for the next one to come along and some of them are trying to light cigarettes in the wind but all together they are believing the train will be coming soon but separated by morning silence. they push through the cold morning waiting.
watching the trees as they shake in it and imagining a hard rain coming down and through the gaps in the platform to the street. with nothing in particular on his mind he stands and hears it.
he’s still standing there as they climb aboard, seeing through the rain running down the side of the train. inside many shake off and some hide into books. inside the station reading papers the brows crinkle in similar waves. clearly the message is coming through on the speakers outside and the instructions are delivered evenly as the tide of passengers seeps in, turnstiles in motion the rivers of them coming through.
still, there he stands, strolling up and down the platform, dawdling the morning away, noticing every untied shoelace, each remnant of coffee cake in mustache, hangnail, cowlick, scuff on briefcase, stain on coat, every scowl, every smile.
Chad Calease is Chad Calease is a filmmaker currently living in Minneapolis nearing completion on a documentary film about the game of Tag. It's likely he can stay awake longer than you can.
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