The girl on the train

(or—Like ships in the night) 

and every day she sat on the train and watched the scenery pass her by…. 

she promised herself that if today he was at the window going the other way…. well, this time…. this time she would wave

sometimes he sat in the opposite direction, and how strange to be always on the same schedule. but just going the other way 

and as her thoughts revolved, the scenery flowed by her, and as she daydreamed out the window, she saw the families through their windows in the apartment buildings as the train went by. And ….it gave her such a strange feeling to see, in parallel, lives and families —all doing in unison; the exact same things. Preparing breakfast for the children; variations of the dynamics but …. mostly far too similar. And it made her feel so insignificant. So utterly invisible. Like one of a million ants building their hills over and over and never ever seen nor noticed 

She got lost in thought and suddenly very sad. She wanted to open the window and fly out…. she was disappearing …. 

her eyes blurred and she blinked 

but that was when the other train was going by …..

and ….she’d missed him entirely 

and her mood sank deeper. Well that was just the day, it seemed to her. Starting with the step into the puddle right as she set off, soaking her boot right through. happy day.

she turned her glance to the annoying ads inside the train and noticed some unkind graffiti ….

and reached and took out her phone to find her eBook….re-reading 100 Years of Solitude…. 

She got to the part where the phrase is repeated “he stood before a firing squad….”

And still it boggles her mind

“Excuse me, hey—“

someone said stepping close to her seat and made her have to look up

It was him

“Is this seat taken?” he smiled at her knowingly 

“Um….” but struck dumb, she only stared at his eyes —which were quite nice now that she could see them up close ….as she moved over making room on the seat for him

“You know, it took awhile —but I finally worked out the train time….you always go ….”

of muses 

it has occurred to me that somehow he has infiltrated every spoke and cog and I didn’t notice it happen and retrace the way back in my mind ….no, like the sticky one way spider’s silk ….there was never a way to go back 

 is it mockery ….you wonder

do they ever mention the torment 

it is there and presses upon you and like some heavy rock, this weight—it presses so that to breathe is like inhaling seaweed….the weeping tangles all gooey and confused as it wraps around the pocket of air of your lung.to go forward is more brambles but it is no longer possible to turn back 

 and so wish it was ok to say what I really feel

it has been about purpose 

and it has been about truth

it has been about a message that can only be told by the mouth of an artist 

so now older, wiser, an apocalyptic world ….a Florence Nightengale? seriously? Tank Girl maybe but that sharp turn of the bus sent us all somewhere ….else

 and maybe we are back in the ‘90’s at a vegetarian health food store and she meets him that way 

no Covid 

no trump cards, no 911