Observations of Morning Commute V (there's more than what's on the train)

I didn't write
on the commute

I just observed

usually
I finger tap
observe into
another
finger tap

but I didn't
tap anything
I just observed

and today it hit me
my commute begins
before I step onto the train
rewind the day
find a moment to
ponder and step backwards

I step out the door
50 feet behind my kids
trash bag and recycling in hand
flip the wooden lid
and now with at least
2 less bags in hand
a step quicker
into the day

the scattered leaves
like my thoughts
spinning in different directions

we walk
fast
determined
to get them to school
safe
and on time

hellos passed in hallways

jackets hung, backpacks emptied
lips kissed goodbye
until evening

the walk
continued
across the streets
waiting for the streetlights
to change
green to yellow to red
yellow to red

a few blocks
the train stop awaits
for passengers daily
arrivals and departures

and in the fog dance
of the morning commute
like a cattle
led to pasture

I found a location
to stand
with bag between feet
I observed
between the heads
and extended arms
over the creases and folds
I noticed it
the quiet calm
at 8:12 a.m.
the c-line
making it's slow descent
down Beacon Street
on a Monday morning

There are days
I get so lost
in internal train observations
I forget about the windows
the outside observations
of what we pass
and I end up
only using these windows
as an extension to see
further and beyond
in angles on the train
within reflections
that are hidden
between those
creases and folds

I looked
through the window
covered in
commuter smudges

the people walking
cars passing
the dogs leading
their people
on walks
finding time in their day
to smell the flowers

and the descent
surprises
caught off guard
by the dramatic change
as I was no longer staring
at the taxi drivers
with styrafoam coffee cups
and cigarettes dangling from lips
leaning against
their freshly washed taxis
but I noticed
in reflection
the one empty seat
on a crowded train

and they stared
everyone looked at this seat
and then looked at everyone else
looking at the seat
but not a soul moved toward it
it just stayed
empty

some days an empty seat is like
an injured animal
being circled by hungry vultures
but this day
who knows why nobody made a move
maybe we were all too aware of our own selves

the woman in green sweater
seated in the adjacent seat
surely wondered why
everyone stood around
as she turned
looked
with a momentary stare
before she drifted back into
her shuffled papers

between stations the
angled reflections
are like a
changing canvas
on the other side
of the window

a game played
now daily
to see how
the pieces of life
fit together
an ever changing
and evolving puzzle

station announced
I step down
follow herd to the exit
through the turnstile
up the stairs
to my seat in the office
window overlooking my station
and the next waves
of people exiting
into their day

-Michael D. Sesling