By Ilana Drake
1 train:
the stop you came on
& i was already there,
seeing your body in
the clump of those
moving into the car
we used to send
mom & dad
pictures of these
“mere coincidences,”
times we did not
know we would
bump into each
other, like long
lost friends
i left in the early
morning & you
slept until your
alarm made you
move to start
the day, but
i wish there
was a way
to say
“thank you,”
you always sat
with those who
did not have a
seat, you gave
up your seat
on the train,
and i never
knew how
different spaces
are different places
last year, we spoke
words that stayed
between us, a
pinky promise sealed
with 16 years of
friendship, and
then, i realized
you were the
other half of me.
White Noise Zine 