Man with Baby Carriage

Getting on the train, his baby carriage blocks
the door so people must shove past
or find another way in. He takes up
space with his pram loaded with a small TV
and is hardened to derision or disdain
in the eyes. Worse is the plain
hardness and indifference he's shown.

Dressed in black knit cap, black coat, his frown
is the deepest etched mouth I've ever seen.
Like a painted clown, yet there's no paint,
and the impression’s painful
since his sadness goes unnoticed.
On the trains, don’t dwell on particulars,
since you'll lose your place in line
or miss your stop. Hide behind indifference.

Lose yourself in plain view,
like the man with the carriage,
there but not there; harmless, threatening
by absence or by presence. The drama
of despair hides behind
the trite and everyday. Questions
gnaw the back of the brain
as you wonder if the carriage
is for a child, or one abandoned
to make room for the TV.

(c) 2011 copyright Charles David Miller. All rights reserved.