rush hour

I love you
when you run
to catch the train.
your perfume surges
and when you collapse
in disappointment
I swoon
except for
the scowl of contempt
that pulls
the next train forward
by your beautiful jaded eyes.
I sit
two rows
and half a world
behind you
for the next connection.

Paul David Mena
4 December, 1996
Somerville, MA

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