Metro Sketch

This building of white surrounded by flags
Orange, lime-green vest, black pants w/ red stripe,
Navy blue hat w/ badge upon her head.
Standing watch over this structure that inhabits ghosts
   of dancer's past. 

Asian, alive, one after the other, coming to this rest stop
On a tour of the blue/green globe.

Waiting for the modern carriage,
Young and old make cliques of age.
Standing with their full bags,
 of all types, carrying what is most important to them.
Off white, one strap, black and gray, double strap back pack,
and here a simple person w/ only her jacket of gray and blue,
   hugging it to her chest, like it brings her comfort, like a child
      and her blanky.

Business suits of drab grays and browns and blacks.
Tourists with their, easy to move around, shorts and
   walking clothes, w/ sneakers that cost so much that they  
        Probably don't know they could have saved/helped 20 children
           in need w/ the money spent on comfort.

Phones open, to pass time.
Magazines read so no eye contact needs to be made.
Books open, looking down, then up, then down again,
  Probably will have to read the page again for understanding
    When they get back home.

Golden galoshes held in hand, w/ sandals of pink upon her feet.
  Prepared for rain, or just prepared.

Black hands hold the pole, held so tight the knuckles turn white,
Fuchsia pullover, w/ white strap from a brazier peeking out,
  in front of me, hair conditioned to the point of dryness,
   hairspray flecks the ends of her brownish, red hair.
    Looks back to see me staring, I avert my gaze in guilt,
       but shouldn't, but do.

Mouth agape black sock cap over dreads,
Yellow short sleeve, with silver long pants,
  down to below the hips, eyes slowly close.

Headphones and Ipods, drowning out the communal noise,
  so inside ourselves, shutting off the sound to the outside
   world, our world.  The one we live in, and hurt in,
and experience, and on and on, every part of us,
   is part of it, and yet we close it down,
Oh to be you with yourself as company.

Dirty blonde wants some shut-eye, lays her head against the
  grimy window, hair up, on top of head, looking peaceful
    amongst the melee of speakers announcing "Next Stop,"
      and children speaking in tongues of their homeland,
       professional males sneaking glances at the dirty blonde young woman,
          who could be their daughter.

Smiles, smirks, frowns, disdainful faces, sleepy, tired, concerned, concentrating,
 Each living within their minds.
Is the girl with the short sleeve, blue top, and dark blue jeans, reading a book,
  studying, thinking of me beside her? 
Is the woman with the green pullover having at least one thought
  of the child sitting across from her?
Are any of us observing our surroundings?
  Soaking it in, and creating/stereotyping our neighbors,
   or are we all contemplating death, and how we get there,
    or what's for lunch, did I make that call?
I hope it's all of that,  yet none of that.
And oh so much more than that.