It occurred to me that when I die I might find myself standing on the Jackson red line platform at around 10:30 on a Tuesday night. The station is crowded. Four men in red baseball caps are singing R&B tunes, a cappella. I'm tired; it's been a good day of work; I'm tired but energized, my mind is alert. More people walk up the steps. Another blue line train must have just come by. The singers aren't quite in tune, but they aren't really out of it, either; none of their songs really finishes, each one just trails off after a while and there is a short interval, they chat for a minute, and then one of them starts singing again. Every tune opens with a solo; they alternate the leads. It's not really late, but it definitely isn't early. I glance down the tunnel, looking for the lights of the oncoming train. It should be here soon.
10 Best of 2014
January: Wyoming and the Open
February: New Mexico and the Holes
Notes on The Accounts