The doors slid aside at Métro 1,
A interminable tube driven by an inhumane robot,
To take hundreds to their lovers, their homes, their offices.

A girl fantasying about her lover, A man scathe in love,
An old woman enamored with The Price of Salt,
facing the young man with a Kindle spirit.

A foreign girl with passion for the city,
slides through the crowd,
And an indigenous man wished he was somewhere else than here.
At the next stop a man bids a farewell kiss to her girlfriend.
And in comes a middle-aged couple,
Enters in with a hatred for one another.

I stood for my final stop,
the doors slid aside,
and I got down.

A couple of goodbye words to these swaths of strangers,
who color my dark life with smiles and tears.
"Farewell strangers, I shall meet you another day at another time."

Success is an illusion,
Luck – brad.
Lived in the hot Georgia
Sullen Swede.

Afraid of the sun,
Sat in the shadows.
Cut on a log
The tick-days.

In a secluded green
Honey pears
Dreamed of mold,
Sought in the wilderness.

Shells piled
In a big bag.
Crossword puzzle solving
And sang rhyme.

I have been alone,
How alone you ask?

So alone,
Even the tears flowed away,
Bearing disapproval to my state

So alone,
That my lungs haven't been polished for years,
With breath shared by a beautiful soul

The windows, they stare at their own scars
The old doors, go either way to closure,
The torn roofs welcome the rain
But the drops fill spaces,
   Not hearts

better get the idea
of learning new things.

through experienced
you know.
It comes from you.