she knows a person she’s never touched yet
just a soul she’s encountered from afar
someone with moods and likes and jokes and heart ache
same station, opposite platform,
a breathing figure
not reaching out for anything,
just waiting for something good to come by,
just like she is.
so they’re both just sitting here (and there)
with vague ideas about things etc.
one stands up to get a snack from the vending machine,
the other thinks that maybe she’ll do the same.
melancholic, yet nothing close to it.
she knows what it’s like to be alone in a small place,
yet certainly not lonely everywhere.
there’s someone else, quite like her, quite like.
both just wonder what the other would do
if the platforms were to merge into a great hall,
but feed that thought no further.
why-cause the separation is the wait
for a carriage to take each one
where they’re meant to go.
the divide assumes no company is needed
for any distance, for any while.
so the passengers sit where they are,
waiting to board a train,
both turn their heads to the sound
of a fog horn.
right there on those rail tracks that isolate the platforms,
is an anchoring ship.