doors closing

i walk down chicago
get on the red line to go south...
sitting on the "el" across from a man
he looks tired
he looks hungry
he nods in and out, his head moving with the swaying of the train
i can't help looking at him, his baggy grungy clothes
but there is something more
i feel compassion
but i don't know how to do anything
say anything
as if i would break that sacred silence on the train
that silence that cries out to be broken
more and more people crowd in at each stop
but the only voice is that of the sound system
"thank you for riding the cta. doors closing"

the man is holding tightly to a plastic bag
he opens his eyes and i get a closer glimpse
bloodshot eyes
tired eyes
hopeless eyes
i avert my gaze, staring at the ad above him as if it is the most interesting thing i have read all day
each stop rotates people in
more get on the already crowded car
a few get off
and i sit in my seat
staring complacently above everyone's gaze
looking down at everyone's feet
and i feel the pressure of the silence
as i breath that same polluted air
and walk on those same polluted streets

...but i have hope

and yet i hold it so closely
so possessively
as if i had earned it
found it
or deserved it

i get up from my seat as the "el" arrives at my stop

"...doors closing"
that mechanical voice follows me as i walk past a car full of people