Who Is In Charge?

Two days ago, I was enjoying my train commute home. My eyes were closed but my mind knew the stops.

Three stops prior to mine, the train hesitated for much longer than normal. I hoped an accident or someone who decided to commit suicide, wasn’t the cause.

Fear not, you emerged, an elderly lady with a pink stocking cap and a basket. You entered the car.

You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.

The conductor was annoyed when you departed. He barked out orders to walk around you, as if you were an object.

I was ill yesterday so I do not know what happened.

Tonight, I am following my train routine. The train stops three stops prior to mine. The train hesitated much longer than normal. You entered with your pink stocking cap and basket. Deja Vu, but this time, not so much.

This time, the conductor was not as patient. He yelled at you for making the train late for “this” as he pointed to your basket.

You responded by telling him to shut up.

You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.

As he reached the door, he decided he wasn’t going to take your words. He stomped his feet and screamed so that everyone in the car paid attention.

“I am in charge. You are not. You do not talk to me like that.”

You laughed in his face and told him that he would have to scream louder hecause you are deaf. He stormed off in a huff.

You had your fare.
You paid your fare.
You get to ride.

I don’t condone mean words, but yours were reactive. I don’t know your situation. I don’t know his. I also don’t believe that the customer is always right. In this case, you seemed to be right.

You had the fare.
You paid the fare.
You get to ride.

To the conductor, who is in charge? She pays your salary and so do I as long as we can afford to ride. We are, if we are not abusive. You are not allowed to be rude to her for taking precious time loading her basket. I hope you are never in her shoes. You will break your ankles under the weight of your arrogance.

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I Miss You Already

Crying and shedding tears.

I miss you and you haven’t even left.

But you will.

We’ve shared secrets.

I will never tell. Your secrets travel with me to the grave.

I hope mine enjoy the same journey.

We will not share anymore. I want you to know.

I miss you already.

You haven’t even left and I miss you.

Inside The Frame

Thank you Simon for challenging me. I’m still not sure about it.

Photo shows our faces smiling
Eternal love placed in a frame.

Outside shows faces contortimg
unbeknownst inside the frame.

Anger in our faces rising
Never betrayed by the frame.

Tempers uncontrolled and hurling
Shattered faces broken panes.

Shawn – Dream and Fiction 1

I regained consciousness with a tube in my trachea, many more attached to my body, and an expression on your face that I could not discern.

I tried to tell you that I remember the accident in its entirety and ask if anyone survived. If anyone died, my life would be truly pointless. The others in the car were my mom, sister, nephew, and your parents.

If my sister died, her children would become orphans, as their father died nearly two years ago. If she survived and my nephew died, she would be devastated with the loss of a child and a spouse, within two years. If my mom and your parents died, we would have the loss of both parents in common, along with our love of football (soccer as others call it). The possibilities were endless. I needed to know that all others survived.

You left the room. You left again. I tried to yell for you to come back. You leaving is what helped this chain of events. I know it sounds selfish, but I need to know your intentions from that night and why you ran away from me.

The tube prevented any of those words from escaping and I blacked out.

I remember the day we met. I was at the apartment office making sure my rent payment cleared. You were applying for your residency. You asked how long I lived in the community and if I would recommend it to a friend. I responded 12 years and I did just recommend the last unit to a friend, so you were probably SOL due to that recommendation. I quickly added a, “Just kidding and good luck” to my response. You asked me my name and I said and spelled it. It is a difficult name to spell. I returned the question. You answered. I asked you if it was spelled with “ea, au or aw” as it could be spelled many different ways. You told me you would text me for the avoidance of doubt. I retorted that it was a clever way to ask for someone’s phone number, but I gave it. My phone buzzed with your number and the word “Shawn”.