An Unexpected Moment

Sitting in an LA pancake house I glance at the back window of the exit door that is letting light shine in through the various posters. My friends chatter about jobs, work and the future. I turn my head away to avoid listening to what is slowly sinking into a depressing conversation. Outside the exit door there is a construction building with its red and orange metal arms reaching into the faded blue sky. Its chinked edges scratching at what could be called a  pretty LA day. A chain link fence over-crouches between the glass door and the modern work, shoving a wedge between the friendly musical chatter of this world and that. I glance down to sip the strong coffee, an old friend of mine and when I look up to the exit door, I'm taken aback by a subway train pouring out from the left side of the glass. The surprise of it made a connection in whatever part of the brain that was awake. It was beautiful. The train pushed across the tracks in the hot summer sun causing vibrations in the ground and shaking the chain link fence. Moving at a speed where you can watch the building behind it blur into a red and orange cluster. It’s not something like a glorious mountain or the ocean at sunset or the lake near an old retreat. It’s something like urban beauty. Wrong, harsh, hot, and indifferent. But I loved it. Raw and unexpected.
-E.B.H