Nighttime Interlude
There’s something about the night that makes me want to tell you my secrets.
I missed seeing you, nightfall.
Men gurning,
debating the mechanics of noise-cancellation headphones.
Women silent,
speaking volumes through the intimacy of hand-holding.
Moments of kindness that no-one sees,
tender offers to swap seats.
The desire for closeness is so tangible
on the underground.
There’s something about dimmed, rocking motions that makes us see-through.
Sans signal, we become poignant and pure
– momentarily.
I wonder where you’ve been
and where you’re going.
There’s something about the night
that makes me want to tell you my secrets.
Resist the late-night speed-dial. Resist.
My head falls to rest,
and I’m still thinking of you.
It seems that the night tube makes me lonely, too.