Thirtysomething sexual coming to being

by Owen Martin

On the 7:30 train home
I noticed her half asleep
Taking up all two seats
With her knees, calves, and feet

Her pose was tired, comfortable, and neat

Because it was late
She had passed her smile to her eyes
Her smile having faded with the day's work

I mistook those eyes for gravity

I couldn't imagine her helpless,
Squeezing, or afraid

Nor imagine her flustered, sneezing,
Or loving me all day

She's a sexual creature with a bodyguard

We're too many stops past New York
There's nobody around
And while she my blink or wiggle her feet
She'll never make a sound