Self Portrait with a Woman I Met on the Train  

Self Portrait with a Woman I Met on the Train

A person concealing a secret
resembles a choked chimney stack
in the sun at dawn
touched only on one side
fully And wholly radiant
Like the woman in the bistro
which was not a bistro
but a restaurant car
called a bistro on the train
She talked to me about keeping secrets
about finding space for them
making them into space
extracting a floating truth
A moon in orbit On display
Space is transparent
Is this news to you reader
Perception is what matters
Posts and fields floated by
Or should I say we floated by
posts and fields
I passed them continuously
She passed at intervals
She told me her secrets
Spoke as if history were ended and
from the bistro car
she could see
the shivering orb
that is the future
beginning to fade too
As if I could order
for her forgiveness
that she could take from my fork
in small bites
that wouldn’t smear
her lipstick
or muffle her speech
She placed a hand on my thigh
I didn’t tell her
that forgiveness is not a moment
It’s train on a track
and passengers sway
left and right
How could I have told her

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