On the subway, where the car jerks in tandem
To the flickering of the electric lights,
I saw a man sitting on the plastic chair.
The bluish light gave his lips cyanide tint
Reflected back from the glow of the screen
That he clutched so tightly, like a lifeline.
His cheeks were mottled; they reminded me of sausages,
Raw sausages speckled with snowy white fat.
He closed his eyes and I could see the blue of his veins
Spiderwebbing through the bags under his eyes.
His button-up may have been blue, or maybe white.
All over blue— I thought of a song about a blue man.
And I sat there on the subway seat beside him,
With my headphones in and pumping loud
To drown out the sound of his shuddering breaths.
When my stop came, I got off.
I did not look back at the blue man still sitting there
As the car hurtled into darkness.
Inklings Literary Magazine 