Today's Commute

It’s a crowded rush-hour train, a thicket of upraised arms grasping for a purchase. Past the field of dark winter coats and smudgy newspapers our eyes meet, dispassionate, watching, hers a perfect green round.

And we stay that way, curious, looking, as the train lurches and rocks, until finally, still locked to me, she leans into her boyfriend, gently presses her temple to his cheekbone, and turns out her light.

Out of the subway and thinking about her eyelid slowly lowering, the sweetness of her touch to her lover, I get lost on familiar streets.