At A Loss For Words
by David Kuchera
Taking a moment to breathe in the freshly acrid aroma of cleaning solution, which is overpowered only
by dozens of double grande half-calf soy mocha lattes, I step into Boston’s infamous two-dollar amusement park. Having brought with me no second-hand newspaper, no iPod, and not a single copy of whatever most people are reading in Freshman English this semester, I feel a bit out-of-place. I find a slightly sticky seat amongst the suits, the studious, and the overwhelmingly sleepy commuters to endure a jerky journey through the city in the belly of this steel beast.
Riding on a train this early in the morning somehow conjures memories of grey-haired sages-asking for tickets and shouting “aboard” with all of their half-enthused fury. Perhaps I am even sitting in a relatively spacious compartment enjoying the countryside and getting to know my next-seat neighbor on his bi-weekly commute to Tuscaloosa. This train, however, holds no such romance. Synthetic sunshine pounds into my eye sockets, making the meticulously framed advertisements difficult to read. Is it guaranteed Swahili or Swedish?
Tags: David Kuchera