Took my seat as usually, an old broken
puppet in a shelf, left alone, staring around.

And this girl is walking and now she seats
right in front of me.

Renaissance white blouse.
Brown almond soft skin.
Wet red lips.

She looks right into my eyes.

We smile.
No.
We laugh. Openly.

If I had lean towards her
we would have kissed.

I can feel her lips,
I am sure
she would taste
like cherries,
her skin fresh
as a breeze
smoothly warmed
on my leaning.

We should have kissed.

If I wasn’t I.

And I shiver,
leaving the train
thinking of her
all this time after.