it was just one afternoon in your life,
minutes really…
the girl at the train station,
time on her hands,
asking for a piece of your newspaper,
talk sparked from events in
the metro section.
then, stale coffee and unbroken conversation,
intriguing and refreshing,
and somewhere, you don’t remember where,
the girl at the train station
became more than just a stranger,
for at least this one afternoon in your life.
strange familiarity and consuming differences.
odd connections and clear separations.
the girl at the train station
was meant - of course - for no more
than just this one afternoon in your life.
minutes really…
inevitably, she boarded her train,
you watched as she smiled and waved a hand,
and disappeared,
bringing to a close
one particular afternoon in your life.
and opening a tender awareness that,
even if you wanted to,
you’re not soon likely to forget
the girl at the train station.
I lived in boston in my early 20’s. And I experienced this a few times, and one time that was extremely vivid.
I meet a girl waiting for the green line train inbound somewhere west of boston, she was up a ways from me, and I just walked up to her, we talked until we got to harvard square, since we were going the same place, and as she left, she put her hand on my shoulder as if to make the last connection, smiled and said thank you, as her warm hand rested on my shoulder. And then we walked seperate ways.
Looking back on it, it seems like we had a magical connection, but that it was meant just for that afternoon . . . even though I wish it was meant for longer.
