"On the Platform, She Still Dances"

we waited for a while on a subway platform.
you took my hand, to try and tell me
something,

and with a whisper asked me to dance with you.
there, of all places:

crowds all around us, horrendous flocks
of faces-- we won't ever get to recognize.
it made me feel strange.

"what do they care?"
you smile.
what do they?

too late.

a grizzly car arrives, then we are shouldered
together in a pair of plastic seats.
we speak quietly as i stare
at our entangled hands.

our stop arrived
and the train was gone
into prolonged sigh.

i should have kissed you then,
when the light was still low
and you were still around.

and now i stand on the other
side of the platform where there are
no hands.

and i am staring and smiling
across the tracks.

i wait for you to come.
i want to ask you to dance
in the stale light,
so we can help contrast.
so you can smile,
and we can be warm
again

subway rats come to mind,
and i leave with a sense of
nostalgia.