One: Inbound

Waiting for the 10:30 train 
on a tiled alcove bench
a sticky puddle below my feet

A Budweiser can in a brown bag
discarded in the corner
presumably in resentment for being empty

Words within the bricked floor
trampled by millions 
seen by few

Inbound

Gripping the pole
shoulder to shoulder
swaying gently
the clack and clatter 
the murmur of voices

A child in a silver moon coat
learning the stops
preoccupied by curiosity 

Two: After Library Square

The child stares past
the last row of magazines
at the people sitting in far corners

A man in a blue poncho 
naps in front of the gas fireplace
his bundle of possessions beside him 
on the floor

A man in a supple leather chair
reads a book, more books
stacked at his feet
his shoulders tense

A man with matted hair and beard
catches her eye and smiles
as the child’s mother hurries her away