Public subway we all ride

A passenger on the metro

Sits and stares at the face

Of a young one with curly,

Wavy, frizzled hair,

That can only be from my head.

And a judgment is made

At my ragged appearance.

And lo and behold

A shake of the head

And a disapproving smirk.

Hello, Mr. Passenger,

How do you do? You see,

My appearance, and think

You know who I am.

Wonder how you knew

My entire history

From a brief encounter

On the subway of the public

That we all ride.

Did you see a mischievous youngster

Who didn't know the course

To travel in the path of her life?

Am I just a confused

Member of a disorientated generation,

That you weep for the existence,

Of a future we will one day

Rule and direct?

Tell me now, sir,

What do you see?

Am I merely an image

Of the stereotypes

You understand,

Only to your acknowledgment,

Of your own past experiences,

With others who may have

Appeared in the same light,

As I did,

On the public subway

We all ride?

I see you now

And I cast the same crime,

Onto the essence of your character,

As you stand in a business suit,

Of your professional world.

And of course, that's all you know

You are crude, ruthless,

And like a machine in your compassion.

You may have a wife

Or you may have a child,

You may volunteer,

You may have just lost

A friend you loved,

So long ago,

You may be a lot of things

But I know your history

By merely a glance, We all ride.

That shows no history,

At all, but only our assumptions.

Subways are no place

To witness and bond,

With the visions of hearts,

Feelings, histories, or tragic events,

Of you or me or the passenger

In the next seat.

Look harder, search deeper,

Maybe you'll see,

Something that's truly me

But I must go now,

My stop has arrived.

So long for now,

Until I return

Onto the public subway,

We all ride,

Eventually, sometime.

Who knows... Maybe we'll

Become friends

Look harder, look deeper,

But I must go now,

My stop has arrived.

Age 19 Feb. 98 Twisted reflections