Doors

The doors open

the seats are soiled

the faces are sullen

I touch the cold, steel bar

I hold on to it

The doors close

the train moves

every shudder travels up

my arm

Faces unknown to me

or to one another

show nothing

hide everything

The train stops

the doors open

Faces move

some towards the light

far above

others to another train

deep down below

• poetry
• writing