Empty Seat

The train was

Packed and I was

Yet another sardine

Among sardines of

Varying degrees of

Size, shapes, official

Titles etc.

 

And in sardine silence

I swam in the scentless

Scene, arriving in the

Center

 

I never find a seat

But right in front of

Me was a seat, full

In its emptiness

 

And I saw who was

In the seat next to

The empty one

 

He was tall, black

And wore a gray

Jumpsuit that hadn’t

Jumped into a washing

Machine

 

(that’s how it appeared, anyhow)

 

And I sat and looked at the

Sardines hanging from

The metal poles as the

Train ground into the tracks

 

And the man next to me

Leans his head into the

Window as the city passes

Him like a dream

 

And I smell his

Life suddenly

From where there was

Once an empty seat

 

Its smell

Is strong

 

Nobody wants

To hear its

Smell

 

Nobody wants

To smell its

Sound

 

Nobody wants

That empty

Seat

 

© 2016 Tony Robles

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