Back to Monday

Stranger on the train.

Let s go back to Monday. Maybe then I’d learn your name. 

Just a face. All I have is your face.

The train left and I was standing, felt the wind of it carry my hair in your direction. The doors closed and I could see you, your eyes speaking my words. There was something about your presence here that stood me in this place. There’s still more of me to uncover and more still that I can’t trace. I know that you read my secrets, written on my face. Yet, you never looked away. Naked and exposed to you even with my clothes, I had to leave to hide my shame. This moment plays back in my head, skipping film on my reel to play. I traveled to your destination just by standing in one place, as though the pavement carried my weight. 

I wonder if you’re seated still as the world passes behind, your train breaking its wind. Did the secrets you read force you to turn your head? Away from me and the lovers in my bed? Did you turn to see me one last time or close your eyes to ingrain my face? 

I have a name. I suppose I have a name.

I’m freezing, though it’s warm this season. Sunday was so much easier. There were so much more clarity that day. The concrete shakes and my knees are frightened. The next train arrives, but I know it’s far too late. My legs surrender to the ground and I am weakened here. This world knows that I am afraid. The granular rock under my palms help me rise up and walk away. I’ve already missed the train.

 

Next time, I will know your name. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[RAWR!]

woooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaah THATS A WICKID PICTURE GURL