I stand for the woman whose feet
strain at the straps of her shoes
stare daggers at the snorer
slumped in priority seats.
The 7.17 chorus tells
of a recent Greek wedding
her brother’s? The audience invested as
festivities fill the carriage from a phone.
Jason’s woken early, texts a busy day ahead
we’ll be promised an ending
as long as we plan the next beginning.
His paged namesake remains oblivious.
Medea’s children smile at her
and she breaks down again.
I give her one more station
to change her mind.
Did you see me at the platform
as your window approached, passed?
Or was my head down as you boarded
same train, different carriage.
I’ve taken a vow of silence in your direction
shifted bags so someone else can sit.
Conclusions are drawn
with sweeping gestures in the street
sparkly things catch my eye, I won’t stoop to collect
it’s enough just to know they’re there.
The optometrist prescribed looking up more
and I don’t blame her.
Look out the window through your own reflection
she could have said
focus your gaze beyond the tips of your fingers
as you stand, core engaged, legs strong
eyes on that chunk of universe
floating just ahead.
It always helps to know which station
is the one before yours
and which you’ll be at if you’ve gone too far.