The train from the city
where two straight lines meet
arrived on time.

The un-mailed letter
about your not coming
I had received already.

I didn’t come to meet you
at the station.
The names echoed

my name you didn’t call
and yours I didn’t either.
Penetrating our transparency

the crowd passed
laughing hugging kissing
they scattered.

The stone pillars heard
the silence of two hearts.
A hand probed.

Four eyes met.
Not there
your cheeks lips or breasts.

Not mine
the forehead, chest or hip
that was there.

The parched voice
of a one-handed soft-drinks vendor
a blind lottery-ticket seller

a child crying non-stop
a policeman suspicious
rails extend crossing and correcting

engines gasp as they arrive or depart
a cement bench a box left behind
a cigarette thrown away half smoked

everything is in place.
The train to the city
where two straight lines meet
departed on time.