On the train from Chicago
we are all colors,
flavors—
caramel, dark, light.
A young couple, clad
all in red and white,
waits near us;
soccer fans
heading back from
Liverpool FC v. Olympiacos.
I had noticed them
earlier
on the way in—
laughing at photos on
his phone,
their tan legs,
intertwined.
And across from us
now
an even younger
couple,
dark chocolate skin, laughing,
electric—
their delight in each
other
making me feel like
grinning silly,
floating too.
Young love
makes a strong point: never stop flirting
with the one you want
to keep.
She grabs his hand,
massages,
notices a scar.
I catch a snippet of what
he says, there’s a story behind that.
Let me tell you…
And I drift away
to the conductor nearing
our seats,
hear you say, I lost our other ticket…
blew onto the tracks…
Don’t worry about it, he says—
waving your money
away
with his face-consuming
grin.
And we are on
to East Chicago,
where the roots of
you grew—
leaning my head
on your shoulder
that for 16 years
I’ve trusted
to take me home.
© 2014 Jennifer
Wagner
|
photo © 2014 Ian
Wagner
|