We're like two subways passing each other in a tunnel, you and I
There are lights that dot the sides of tunnel,
attempting to guide us through,
but we hardly acknowledge them.
We can see each other in the darkness,
the subtle outline of metal,
the red and white indicators of our existence.
We're carrying so many people in our cars,
people from our past that sit in cars,
each representing different stages of who we are.
And we try and steer these subways through the dark,
searching for one another.
Yours just as full as mine.
The rickety tracks push metal against metal that ring through the hollow of our ears.
And we become distracted by this screeching,
this friction between the rails and our wheels,
and lose sight of each other.
Every station we pull into -
Museum, Queen's Park, St. Patrick -
we expect to catch a glimpse of one another -
going in opposite directions but comforted by the fact that we are in the same station.
We might pick up the same passenger but at different locations,
at different times.
Our paths cross haphazardly.
But I keep wishing that one day
all the lights will point towards me,
and your wheels will stop inches from mine.
And you will look into my cars
and see all those people that have made me,
and I will look into your cars and see all the people that made you
and you will realize
and you will say
"I don't want to keep going from station to station.
I've found my passenger."