such a shift

now the Spanish sky is my reflection
the rumble is the oboes, the trombones,
the clarinets that no longer annoy.

my canopy of maple leaves and bed of moist grass
my neighbours in their best sunday dresses
enjoying a sermon
and then the symphony

what a shift
from the mirror with my smile mounted in a train
to my left, Romanians in hot pink and blonde tinted hair.
to my feet, my wary travel companion.
to my right, Mongoloid Russians with a multitude of language skills.

“like fish in a barrel,” he says.
I can leave, even though the expression
is a tad out of place.

just like my reaction to the fact that
we have killed a man
the rumble? likely his corpse
under the train.

such a shift in such a short period of time.