Sometimes I wonder,

what is the pay toll worker thinking

while she rituals her hand in the in and outs,

in the in and outs ..

While she undoes the window from

silence to sounds.

While she unstains the glass of her

eight-hour window pane.

Or while she unclocks her time from

monotony to hectic winding.

Is she revising the color of cats

in Africa, or the number of kangaroos in

Japan, bellies of street dogs in her

city, or she thinks fish is  the perfect pet?

Is she multiplying cars with tracks

Then abstracts the buses, or she is simply

uninterested in numbers

Is she vomiting her thoughts to friendly

faces, or she is just not talkative.

Or she only sells tickets and counts the change?