There was a short man <br />sitting in front of me <br />on the train this morning <br />having an interview on his cell phone <br />couldn’t quite work out the accent <br />but an English voice in a German train <br />always captures the attention <br /> <br />so I dropped my book <br />and gave him the quick once-over <br />beige cords <br />cream turtleneck <br />loafers <br />salon hair <br />and those perfect moon cuticles <br />the casual smart look <br />that seems to be hiding something <br />……or nothing <br /> <br />a paper bag of grapes <br />was perched beside him on the seat <br />for the vitamins (no doubt) <br />or maybe for the detox <br />yes <br />that would fit with the bottle of water <br />and the faint smell <br />of sour whiskey bleeding through <br />his manicured pores <br /> <br />and after a moment <br />he pulled the phone away from his ear <br />and glanced at me <br />I think I was making him paranoid <br /> <br />well <br /> <br />I can only hope so<br /><br />Sheila Knowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/interview-on-a-train/
