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stranger at the station
The embers on your cigarette and mine dance
closer until they can be mistaken for eyes looking
for the same train.
This meeting is just a brief tangle
in our lines that have been dragged for years behind us.
There's an infinite number of times that
we could have accidentally drifted off course
and never went the way that leads here.
Yet we stand inches apart.
Our stars are barely kissing,
virgin to each other's light
in a midnight maelstrom of uncertainty
only confirming that you are aware of my existence
and not even coming close to acknowledging the beauty of this coincidence.
But that is enough for today, and probably forever,
because you will be the stranger at the station just this once.
Your face is a song I'll never know the words to
and not understanding will be the sweetest mystery