I wish the story could be told;
and more so could be told by me
with smells and views and
hints of what was heard
and said and softer said.

But the wish and the truth and
the fear of the lies are attached
and afloat in my heedless head
as I walk along the platform line.
The yellow line. The danger line.

And Yes you know the fear out here
and No you can't be seen out here,
but that is why I must be here.
Even ignored like the twitter
trends of the mindless mass.

Here I fear the worst of all.

I fear it never happened at all.

Not at all.

But it did.