timeful

two men waiting at the streetcar stop. cool cloudy morning suggests but does not state rain, not yet. there is time, they have time, and i am sitting inside nothing happening, wrapped in a blanket of glassy silence, a lake just beyond the counter, waits, placid before the toss. i guess i have time too. perhaps that unites us? the younger man is wearing loose sweats that pool at the joints, crimson florescent sneakers dam the fabric into reservoirs of black & gray. red baseball cap, bill pulled low, forming a singular brow above the ice blue eyes, glowing in the feral shade. bouncing on his balls, feet shifting as he throws imaginary knockout combinations at the fat cheeks of his pudgy older friend, swathed in a banana yellow sweater like some kind of mutant fruit dumped on a downtown corner. inside there is stillness as i watch the young guy grab a sign's steel pole, sneakered feet scurrying for no apparent reason up except that he has the time & the vitality to spend, put to no worthy purpose, at least not yet. i watch him track an attractive young woman with a huge wavy mane of dark brown hair all the way across & down the street as if his gaze had hooks that could reel her in, nodding & grinning to his companion. i tell my fellow, middle-aged coworker that i remember when i had too much energy that wanted to grab & grapple & climb. the military took most of it and i'll be surprised if it doesn't take his. a young man like that, climbing out of skin... 

the streetcar arrives, opens its doors, and departs with a sigh, sweeping them from the corner. inside, i have plenty of minutes before i move on to the next thing. i am older now and have to be wise with my energy. sitting in stillness, in a room full of signs with nothing to climb, but i do have time.