Noodles and broth swirl
With specs of oil and vegetables
Around with a turn of my fork

The air is stale and stagnant
Only an occasional rush
Of a breeze comes down from the entrance

There was no one else in the shop
A small ramen pop up
On the edge of the subway platform

People walked busily
Back and forth, up and down
To their trains and cabs above

I couldn’t say who any of them were
But I was fascinated watching them
As I sat and waited for her

I’m sure she never even left
She was probably still in the keys
On a pontoon below the afternoon sun

With the wind in her hair
And some one else’s arms
Wrapped about her