i know the tall suit who spent
i know the tall suit who spent
three weeks reading On The
Road, the curly-haired forty-
something who is a runner
or wants to be, the older gentle-
man who travels from
somewhere wide
enough to plant his own
daffodils for the empty
vases on the twelfth
floor, and the young
woman who keeps her hair
interesting. plus or minus
ten minutes, we all ride in
the same train car
together, towards a
ballpark destination
.
20100415:2151
y
y 
You probably have dozens of photos you have shot of passengers on the commute trains, but still in your poetry one finds all the pictures we need, clicking off our own memory logs. There are coffee table glossy photography books out there that present humanity huddled on trains, in subway stations, on busses, trains, planes; fevered brows, daydreaming, weeping, in love, lost, reading obits and racing forms and baseball stats and poetry, angry, hungry, forlorn, wistful, alien, overdressed, underdressed, in Nazi helmets and Andy Warhol sunglasses, Elton John feathers and John Lennon tee shirts–yet there is room for your eye, your views, your truths…and we, as your readers, pine for your icons and poetry.
in truth, most of the time, i refrain from the temptation to take photos of passengers in my commute. i tend to want to ask first, so as not to appear rude. unless i can catch them not looking! (smile) did you see the photo that went with this writing bit? click on “we all ride” above.