Outbound Train to Oak Grove
by Welina Farah
I’m trying to steal a glance
at the couple
on the other side of the train.
Love,
their love,
in all its energy,
in all its mystery,
in all its misery,
encapsulates me.
Although it’s not mine to admire,
not mine to dive into,
I can’t look away.
It pulls me in,
like quicksand and the fate of a small animal.
Their body language reads like a dictionary -
like a passage
between me and you,
between occupy and occurrence
this all occurs writ large in front of me.
But I don’t need to look at the definitions.
I know them all too well.
