A REFLECTION

This New York subway is too crowded.  The people of this land are hungry ghosts working off what they owe, and no one seems to be aware of me.  I'm not even a ghost; I'm not even here at all.  His figure sits comfortably on the cold dirty floor.  I can see that he is different from the others.  This man knows the truth about violence and it's permanent impressions on these temporary city walls.  He recognizes me and is looking at me differently today, but I'm just passing through.  He introduces me to his girlfriend, and I note her checkered face and marble eyes.  Her head seems to be glued on.

Blood on the stairs and more on the walls.

We have a small, friendly talk about places we've been, people we know.  I know that he has missed me.  I am trying to leave, but the magnet is too much for me.  I flirt out of habit while he does so out of courtesy.  He is trying to tell me about the chaos of lifetimes, and I open my eyes wider as I finally understand his relationship to me.  He is my lover, myself, and my possible future.

I hear my own voice.  Don't look over there.  There's a dead body by the stairs.

I sink deeply into my skull and curl up inside it while I talk to the stone woman and reject the sight of her screaming, descending the staircase.  I see her brassy hair as she disappears under the archway.  I feel her scream like screeching subway cars, and the crash is coming like fateful lightening.

Alone with my guide, I let my shoulders go, and I can breathe again.

The kiss is the only thing that our bodies will allow us.  My forehead is soothed by it like summer, floating on a silent lake.  He tells me that he loves my existence because I direct my energy towards cool things.  He calls me the "cool chick," and I laugh.  He's telling me to love myself because he loves me.  I know he's telling the truth because I can read his mind.

His energy leaps into me through my neck as he kisses it, and it's as if I have become him, and he is me.

A perfect me.  We meet in space, speaking with our purest voices through the pathways of the ages.

A low tone rings as he embraces me like the meeting of earth and sky.  He directs the electricity from the rails into my soul.

"This is my choice to be here," I say.

Our choice to be anywhere, our choice to be us, my mind says.

"I'll see you again," he assures me, and I notice that he's wearing my favorite necklace.

"I knew it was yours, so I put it on."  The sight of its sparkle draws me away from his eyes, allowing me to drift sweetly from his thoughts and his spirit with ease.

I leave him and wonder if he'll be here next time.  I wonder if I will find my way back.  He has no such concerns.  One last kiss before I trade this moment for a foggy memory like a fractured reflection in tinted glass.  Parting kisses tug at my soul with the loneliness of humanity, but I am full and walk away in wisdom.

There are victims lining the escalators and exits, and I'm still invisible.  I walk like helium through the dark halls and empty faces to my place in line next to the mountain of shards and cement.  I look for my ticket, and I become aware that I'm not in the present, these are slide images of a past and a future projected onto my screen of consciousness.

I guess I don't need a ticket after all.