I’m standing in line. It’s a long line. It winds around the street. I’m somewhere near the back, but in time I won’t be. That’s how lines work.
The people in front and the people behind are a jumble sale, there is no order or sense to any of it. We’re all jumbled together in line and after five minutes the jumble takes a step. Someone is reading On The Road. Someone is scratching their armpits. It’s hot.
After some time I forget what the line is actually for, all my thoughts have left to join another line somewhere. Bagels.
Channel Static 