The subway doors close
between us. I wave goodbye, still
taste morning form your quick
kiss – toothpaste, coffee, a bite
from last night’s chocolate cake.
I walk alongside the train, turn
to catch your eyes one last
time through the commuter crowd.
But you look straight ahead into
the dark lines of the tunnel,
book resting on your lap, eyes
full of the hazel green in your scarf.
You could live without me.