Friday, 13 January 2012

David Svenson

On Crowded Trains in Cities

On crowded trains in cities,
the hungry wrapped in blankets in corners,
the handsome tall in their suits,
the beautiful with their gloved hands on rails,
the cake decorator, he knowing when to get off,
the appraiser reading the system map,
the lawyer with his handkerchief over his mouth,
the web designer looking at his hands,
the laborer looking at his hands,
the teacher talking to a student,
the student popping her gum,
the transit cop eyeing those boarding,
the mother with her daughter,
the father with his friend,
the grandmother with her shopping cart
            thinking of the grandfather,
the musician’s hands in his pockets,
the waiter at the door,
the boy leaning into the glass, staring into fog,
under San Francisco Bay, over the Charles,
under the East River, waiting to come up
for that breath of air.

David Svenson is a copy editor living in Portland, Maine. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Cold Mountain Review, Poem, and Rougarou. He received his MFA from Florida International University in Miami, Florida.

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