PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I watch an Amtrak cop

rouse a sleeping hobo.

I walk by to Dunkin Donuts

seeking rocket fuel—

or at least an XL portion

of caffeinated beverage.

My eyes are heavy

I want to crawl into a warm bed

but my train is delayed.

An Amish couple seem
terrified by the city

but I spy intrigue

in their daughter’s eyes.

Young adults speaking German

are in line in front of me.

I buy a bagel and small coffee

for a drifter seeking alms.

As I approach the platform,

a young lady spins a yarn

about spousal abuse 

and a grandmother in Croydon.

That’s where I grew up

so I provide her with a round trip

to and from Croydon.

On the platform, I see her

giving the same story

to another mark.

We make eye contact 

as I walk past but I say nothing

It’s really not my business anymore.

I hear the announcement for my train

and I can see the lights

coming from the Suburban Station tunnel.

Par de course/late as usual

is the Septa modus operandi

but I feel content knowing

I’ll be home in bed soon enough.