Missing 70705

Mornings are the hardest
When suited shadows merge as a crowd
And each silhouette could be yours
Mechanically my 8:15 ride pulls in
I find a seat or sometimes I stand
Glance beside me at blank faces
I press play and he begins
Taking me to the bridge
The sun gleams
And I see you, see me
But the image is out of focus
The pavement is wet from rain
A bubble from a blow pipe Pops!
And your gone when the muser loses key.

The only sound that fills the vacuum
Where our laughter used to be
Is the regular heartbeat
Of the train rocking over the tracks
It drowns out the rhythm of my own
And my mind races over memories
Searching for a reality,
A tangible moment in time
Long enough to feel.
The tube sighs through the station
I seek you on the platform
I roam you in my dreams
And when I find you there
And see you smile,
Grinning dimples back at me
I'm frightened.

Sometimes, the train is empty
And I sit there on my own
There's a great sense of knowing you
But the person who knows you
Is me but you are not him You can't be
Because you are not here
And I no longer bump into you
On tubes, on platforms
I just stumble across memories
They trip me up,
Take my breath.
I catch myself
And breathe a breath,
It's yours.

© Nathalie Pownall 2005