Stranger on the train,
four rows away,
snoring softly.
As I stare,
curious,
she wakes.
Eyes familiar,
warm.
But she's still,
a stranger on the train.
Small bumps,
hiccups.
The carriage rattles,
startling.
Green seats,
lined with cheap vinyl,
and stained with coffee.
I look up,
to the stranger on the train,
closing her eyes again.
And I close mine,
too.
Stranger on the train,
dressed in a deep blue blouse,
so far away,
so close.
Stranger on the train,
I sleep,
too.