Strangers on a train

Dark eyes,

Minimal makeup,

Black leather coat,

Black jeans,

Shorter than me,

You looked up, we caught eyes, and we smiled,

While waiting for the train you paced on the platform,

All the while I could feel your eyes  as I looked ahead and listened,

I glanced at you once only to catch you staring and quickly look away.

Finally your pacing stopped directly in front of me,

You stood there looking at the train schedule,

You didn’t turn, just stood there letting me look at the lines of your face,

The newspaper poking out of your purse,

Your feminine figure wrapped in a layer of tops,

Tight jeans showing your thighs and calves.

You reached in your purse and put on lipstick,

Puckered your lips as I watched.

We shared an awkward presence built on intrigue.

As the train rolls up people rush the doors,

You line up right behind me, ready to board,

People are slow so you rush to the other door,

I get on in the middle of the train and proceed to the far side,

You’re on that side, putting on lotion, looking toward the car’s center.

Are you looking for me?

You finally turn your body and your gaze,

I stand in the corner listening to a podcast as the train rolls,

I am tall, somewhat ominous so I try not to look up.

I know better than to intimidate and stare,

Your stop arrives and I allow myself to look directly at you.

We lock eyes again, face calm, train still,

The man in the wheelchair turns in order to exit.

Your eyes look curious as you turn to leave.

I smile, but you’ve turned and started for your next destination. 

I watch you stride away thinking, “What’s your name?”

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