Trains

Trains are peculiar places

Different destinations

Different faces

Yet here we sit

 

All the while unknowing

Of what lies ahead

Or who, like you, call this place: church,

office,

bed.

 

Stuck in transit

In limbo

Of where we were

And where to go

Yet here we sit

 

Too socially restricted to say hello

Avoid eye contact, awkwardly stare out the window

Each left to out own lives

Yet here we sit, our stories forever intertwined

 

The cuddling sleepers

Familiar face seekers

With avid imaginations

Or strict religious affiliations

Here we sit

 

The incessant snacker

The chronic over packer

The constant phone checker

The silence wrecker

Here we sit

 

To and fro

Sit the ones forever on 'go'

Business never stops

Until one sits on top

 

Blissfully unaware

Sprawled along the bench

Too content to care

Guard down; unclenched

 

Headphones in, shades on

Facade walls built high

Reality lie

Nonchalant, 'fly'

 

Infectiously inquisitive

Glass- pressed face

Rambunctiously talkative

High energy meets small space

 

Yet here we sit

sleep

read

pray

talk

text

eat

work

escape

Ride.

 

Each stop

Each stage

We part ways

 

No introductions

No salutations

Sitting side-by-side

We ride

alone.

 

Trains are peculiar places

Different destinations

Different faces

Yet

            here

                       we

                                     sit.