Ruminations

Holidays in the City

Flannel fishnets, trendy flak jacket
she wore upturned lips
steady fingers between his
thighs (no subtle
pressure). Geez they're just kids
in this February cold, but Christ
-mas day: ipods and
legwarmers together in the back
seats, train to Union Station.

Billboard and street-snow lights
flick pale chalk razor lines, rolling
shadows that regular intermittent:
like a dealer's draw with the house odds,
a pair of jacks railroading toward each
other. The boy, he squirms some,
his army pants have those
cargo pockets for a reason,
apparently, while across the aisle
the girl's smirking up at me
as if she knows
I saw.

Our morning, yours and mine,
had been cinnamon and hospitality,
gift giving and wine-dosed family laughter
on maple floors woven over with wool
before we caught the 6:40 Metra
home into the city. While we, we had this no
-tion of "close" we'd wagered on,
but then (same train) there were
these two vacant seats between us
unflirted space, brittle like
our frozen eyelashes after mass.