no room for rush
no space for sad
train conversation
with cute fellow nomad
he's French & articulate
& we speak of the world
I've gone from world traveling missionary
to blushing school girl
He asks how I got here
I say I wish I knew
he says the same with more words
one hour passes, then two
my eyes leave his light blues
as he tells me about home
I look to his shaggy brown hair
& wish my fingers were a comb
70 people in our rail car
not an occidental concept of space
but the closeness is suddenly comforting
his laugh makes my heart race
'chi!' yells the tea seller
'chains for luggage' yells another
running up & down the isles
then three children & their mother
my fellow travelers in the adjacent row
that have become my two brothers
--hardship & travel will do that--
make jokes one after another
teasing the intentions
of my new focus of attention
they soon make friends with him too
without any contention
train pulls into the station
back to Delhi via Taj express
exchange of contact information
without love, monuments are useless
