Traveling Man

My love is on the move today having motored to the station and situated himself in a bus equipped with air conditioning and multiple baglets of salty pretzels, driven by an eminent expert chauffeur who will transport passengers to Boston, city of patriots and many hospitals, because one particular hospital is the reason the love of my life is traveling today, and when he arrives after many hours at the Boston terminal, South Station, a huge cavernous monument of an edifice which smothers several city blocks, he will snatch up his suitcase, put away his paperback and telephone and earphones and whatever else he has taken out on the interminable ride, pack it all away, crumple up empty cellophane, stand and shuffle to the exit, step down the stairs into the depot, and then make his way through the terminal breathing the smoggy coolish air of downtown Boston, stand a minute and stomp his feet to get shaky bearings, acquiring his sea legs during a round-the-world steamship journey, and then start walking to his hotel located a very long way away, but fortuitously situated next to the doctor’s office where he is expected the next morning, so that his eyes which are poorly sometimes and could get worse if he is careless, so his eyes can be checked and measured and drops inserted until the light of a single candle feels like a strobe blasting away, that’s how sensitive his eyes become after the medication is trickled into his eyeballs and he must wink away tears for half an hour, anyway he has to trudge an hour across Boston to get to his hole-in-the-wall hotel, where he will find he has no hot water but he will shower with cold water because he doesn’t really care, of course if I was there I would call the front desk and complain but he doesn’t, he just takes a cold shower and enjoys it, then wraps himself in a shabby towel and calls me to say he is fine, he is clean and cooled off after his interminable walk and missing me and longs for the life we used to lead six hours ago which makes me laugh, since he is sentimental and I am hard-boiled.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
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