Cold wind. Screech, pop, grind, slide, slam.

Words exchanged, clarifications given.

Swirling maelstrom and widening gyre, lights flicker-flashing, smeared colors, hot air. The speed, raw whipsaw speed, as necks are lashed back and forth by stop and start. Static, hum, a constant mumble in an undecipherable tongue.

Sweat, peeling layers of winter clothing. Staring. Blankness. Fear. Blankness. Roaring beasts shouting, bleating, racing past each the other.

Screech. Words exchanged, money given. Pop, grind, slide, slam. Cold wind.

Jingle, zip, swing, slam. Tromp-tromp. Jangle, zip, swing, slam. Home.

This entry is part of my journal, published January 13, 2012, in New York.