Train Envy

 

Poems by
Stuart Feinhor

 

Knees touch, not hands, from
perpendicular seats.

They are young and cute, oblivious
to the rest of us. Both wear hats.

Did they spend the night
at his house, at his? Their first

time, best, last? Long eye-locked
pauses; words I can't hear. My

pulse...Is that sympathetic? We
ride parallel; their lines cross.