Wicked Wednesday: Strangers

Interior of a crowded subway car on 7 train Queens bound late evening. Image taken by Daniel Schwen on Dec 6th, 2004. {{GFDL}} via Wikimedia Commons

Interior of a crowded subway car on 7 train Queens bound late evening. Image taken by Daniel Schwen on Dec 6th, 2004. {{GFDL}} via Wikimedia Commons

We often think the stranger is the one we do not know,
And on the train to nowhere in the subways deep below,
We look at all the faces and we wonder who they are,
And why they’re traveling tonight, and whether they’ll go far.

I look at all the people and make stories of their lives:
The businessman reading a book he got from the archives.
The student standing listening to his music on his phone -
I wonder if he’s meeting friends or going home alone.

I see a lone reflection in the windows of the train,
For I am also on my own, and feeling not quite sane.
I’m lonely and I’m anxious, and I’d like some company,
To have a brief encounter just to pause the misery.

Within the glass I catch the eye of a young handsome man,
He’s standing right behind me, and I wonder if I can.
He stands a little closer, pressing right into my back,
And I can feel how hard he is as the train goes black.

We’re traveling through an empty stretch of tunnel and it’s dark,
I wish we were alone so we could see that struggling spark.
I press myself against him and I wish that I could turn
If my raw desperation he can easily discern.

The lights come back and we are pulling now into the station.
The man I knew’s no longer there, and I have no elation.
Although I don’t know who he was, I knew him in a way,
He wasn’t quite a stranger, and I feel a deep dismay.

I often think of strangers as the ones deep in shadow,
But sometimes it’s the ones I’m closest to that I don’t know.
I don’t know what they’re feeling and the chasm’s growing wide,
I keep my feelings to myself, and hidden deep inside.

Some times I see reflections of the moments that might be,
I hold these closest to my heart and hope they will change me.
We live our lives like strangers as we’re riding on a train,
I wonder if we’ll ever have the love we had again.

 

 

 

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2 Responses to Wicked Wednesday: Strangers

  1. Gosh, this felt sad to me, some loneliness. I fantasize on the train often

  2. A beautiful poem that made me think of how I wonder about the stories of strangers I see around me, and if those strangers wonder about me too…

    Rebel xox

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