poem of the day 05.08.09

this happens

i see her looking down at me
while she’s waiting
for the train doors to open
then she leans down
and asks me what’s that book
i’m reading
at first i say nothing
i look up at her
she looks alien to me
ugly and grotesque
i cannot recognize her as human
she says i only ask
because i really like the book’s
cover, it’s so vibrant
then i look down at the book
in my hands
i turn it over
and it looks alien too
only not as ugly and grotesque
as the woman
at least it’s tangible
then i say
it’s poetry
a book of poetry
and her face drops
oh, she says
well how is it?
bad, i say
then the train doors open
and as she steps out onto the platform
i close the book
put it back in my bag
lean my head against the window
and wait for however long
it’ll take
until the next one comes by
and has something to say