I did not have much time to read or write this week, the first full week of school and all the usual politics and inservice hoo-ha having sucked the life out of me. So I used a few spare moments to grab one of the numerous chapbooks living in my house and read a poem here and there.
From the Platform
The subway doors close
between us. I wave goodbye, still
taste morning from your quick
kiss-toothpaste, coffee, a bite
from last night’s chocolate cake.
I walk alongside the train, turn
to catch your eyes one last
time through the commuter crowd.
But you look straight ahead into
the dark lines of the tunnel,
book resting on your lap, eyes
full of the hazel green of your scarf.
You could live without me.
(sigh) The poem seems like a simple routine. The last line is a killer. Enough said.