being watched by that man he thinks

looks at the watch. could be his watch. sees the numbers in an elegant sequence, black and white. sees a circle round them too - chocolate wood color metal. and 2 sharp lines, held at the circle's center, scanning the circle's interior, one and then the other. listens to the muffled ticking sound. he's at a train station. the one he remembers most. he's wearing his Monday suit. the one his tailor worked on. he's sat on a bench that concerns him, unsure if it's creasing his pants, waiting for a train. the 6.49 to work. the women he remembers arrive, all take-away coffee and reek of cheap deodorant. he feels it paste the top of his tongue. looks at his watch. hears the 6.49. watches himself stand in the windows of the doors as they arrive. sees through them a man facing him too. checking his watch. 6.48. must be his watch. doesn't remember another one. remembers his Tuesday suit though. the one he'll be wearing at this time tomorrow. the one his tailor worked on. the one that goes with his watch. it must be his watch. and tomorrow if he remembers, he'll stand.

 

he is in the middle of a train going to work - the 6.49 to work. the doors closed shut as he checked his watch - 6.51, and the man he saw took his seat three people down to the left. he's wearing my Thursday jacket, with his Armani jeans, in the window reflection. I see tall cypress trees tall and green as the summer.... it must be time to get off he thinks as he finds himself walking amongst the coffee-and-deodorant girls, and I'm being watched by that man he thinks too. checks his watch - 6.55. It's Monday so I'll use a lift - all day yesterday on the beach in the sun, and the tide, and the waves, and the time - so exhausting taking it all in, so tomorrow I'll take the stair. in my Tuesday suit, the one my tailor worked on. I'll wear this watch too. I know I will.