Note: Hankies are importantA Poem by SamSatHe’s here, waiting with me for the 09:55 train. And he, is here yet again with a wet nose and no handkerchief. 23 seconds pass between each sniffle. I’m also keeping tabs on the number of times he raises his hand to wipe his nose but doesn’t. He’s an odd man. He wears: a nicely scented shirt and a neatly pressed pair of black work pants; a clean pair of specs; shiny shoes and (what looks like) a new pair of socks But he doesn’t carry a handkerchief! Commuters, who would usually push and shove against each other, parted like the sea did for Moses And let him have the most coveted standing spot: the corner near the opposite doors. Such is their aversion. I, on the other hand, am fascinated Through him, I find my #1 deal breaker, my resemblance to my grandfather, and a new found love for handkerchiefs. I also find in him a kind of kinship; I too have forgotten important items, many times. But to have forgotten something for three days in a row? That’s a feat I am yet to accomplish. And the best of all? He shows no regret, no shame as he continues to sniffle. After all, it makes him stand out in an otherwise homogenous, work-going, metro crowd. Or, he does to me at least; me: a self-proclaimed curator of human nature, with 10 minutes to spare. I stand opposite him and continue to stare. It doesn’t bother him, I might as well not be there. He gets off two stops before mine, leaving me with an odd sense of longing to know more. Will he bring his handkerchief tomorrow? Does he not own any kerchiefs? Are tissues not soft enough for his delicate nose? I don’t know. Tomorrow I will, perhaps. © 2017 SamSatReviews
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