Sleepers

When I get on the El to spirit myself away

I always see at least a few of you, dozing.

Some of you look peaceful, others weary

And there are still others that appear forlorn and lost

even in your brief slumber.

 

Where are you going?

Where are you coming from?

Was it a hard day?

Will you miss your stop?

I wonder these things about you, strangers

that I’ve only met by stealing glances

while you are most vulnerable

to the wicked world.

 

The last two lines to this poem I borrow

gently, and reverently,

from Rexroth.

 

I know it might be cheating to take words

Out of context – they were originally meant

for a former lover

But sometimes it can be good to extend affection

even to strangers

in cold times

like these.

 

And so Rexroth says:

I wish I could be sure that deep in you

Was a magnet to draw you always home.