Observational Nature: NYC R Train to the 2 to the 3

Looking through another glass.

There’s a pair in front of me, blabbering about something they both know little to nothing about. The male finds her attractive but she’s waiting on prince charming – you could tell by the distance she’s sitting from. She has a sort of extra protectiveness about herself that’s shown in how close her knees are pulled into each other and how tight she clings onto her bag. And she’ll never know the potential this guy withholds.

Hold on, Transferring —

One of the worst aspects about the MTA is transferring; reason being that the train you’re rushing for could possibly be running with delays or running on the express track (vice versa). There’s always a nibbling at the back of your neck, hoping the train would be there and praying it doesn’t fail you on that job that you’re fighting to get/keep. Forget the weekends, they look like migraines.

And turn your focus to the only human in this train car diagonal from me. She is of Asian descent and seems to be adept in cooking, as well as many other surprising life hacks. The woman looks like one bad ass chef who knows all sorts of Mediterranean and Vietnamese dishes. And her haircut is something I could never pull off. She dresses timid, simple – yet her black and white floral designed shirt speaks a wild side that is packaged away as a sort of heirloom.

And hello fellow traveler! What do we have here? Hmm, a man/boy who speaks all the marijuana wonders of his world. He has a touch of quirkiness to him, yet he holds a dash of.. innocence and failing hope in his eyes.

Oh! Farewell lonely train commuters, I have to catch a train that’s coming in about 8 minutes (so they say).

(C) 2015
All rights belong to and stay with the author K.A. Shepherd. This poem (as well as many other pieces of writings), may be shared with friends on social media networks, but may not be tampered, published, or sold to make profit in any way without the author’s consent.


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