The 6 o'clock Subway

Sitting on the subway at 6 o’clock,

Pressed against the cool glass panes

As raindrops smear across the other side

Doesn’t seem like the day could get worse

A young man sits across her; hooded eyelids

A pale, angular face framed by a splay of black locks

His head tilted ever so, lightly bobbing to the electronic device,

Clenched in his hand like a lifeline.

Scuffed canvas sneakers,

The edges frayed like cat whiskers

Legs crossed nonchalantly, hunched over slightly

Cloaked by a bleached and beaten jacket

He’s the picture of

Adolescent brooding.

He glances at her, a look of disdain

The plaid skirt and neat little blazer

Poised at the edge of her seat,

With her backpack resting in her lap

The girl seems oblivious of her own unease

Her eyes acast to the floor.

Fumbling with her mittens,

Cute pink things with white polka dots

A juxtaposition of two worlds

As the subway shrieks to a halt,

The doors swish to the sides

As she stumbles out, completely oblivious

A mitten floats to the floor

Lies abandoned and desolate

Against the stark gray linoleum

Caught by a stray hand

Folded neatly in half

He hands it to her,

Tucking it in her pocket

And the little pink thing

Disappears from their vision.

Author’s Note:

I wrote this a while ago- last summer? Or was it two summers ago? Just dug it out of the graveyard and edited it a bit. I think it was because of Gossip Girl and that triggered the memory of this poem’s existence. xD So if you take it literally, it’s Upper East Side meets...hmmm...PS X highschool kid. I kind of imagined this guy to be from Stuyvesant or some sort of magnet school. Insanely smart but from an ordinary to lower-end middleclass family. A possible intro to another story? We’ll see about that…