Beautiful People, ​I See Every Day.

The train,
her face is unique.
Her cheeks – the next stop is Museum.
For a moment I look,
I see into her eyes,
I breathe the stale air and remember I am still alive.

The ride,
slow and somber.
Standing among the crowd,
why are the wheels on the track so loud?
I want to talk to you,
tell me your name.

The ring tells me you’re married,
my heart tells me the same.

Then Osgood,
I’m still not near my stop.
But you’ve run out,
and me?

Out of luck.

Or have I? Because soon I see another,
beautifully unique,
And she is a mother.
Daughter sitting right next to her.

The real one she sits behind a board,
Hidden, I pretend I don’t see her.
I don’t know her, I still love her.
I don’t need her.

I exit at King,
not looking back.
She stands at​ that moment.
Doors closing, she’s calling my name.


Seth King

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Poetry

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