We Are Who We Are
Once upon a time, I took the train to work. The thing about Atlanta is that if you’re not driving a car, you’re stuck on MARTA. Some might find that an unsavory dish, but there’s something deeply beautiful about sharing your commute with a train full of strangers. There’s a connection to the city that you don’t find while sitting alone in your car.
These days I live outside of the city and I work from home, but there was a time….
There was a time my day would go something like this:
I run to to the train as the wind of arrival gets sucked into my chest.
For three stops I’m alone with my thoughts,
wondering what things make me
me.
Two rushing men enter from opposite sides of the train.
One is older wearing two button-ups over his t-shirt.
The other has dreads sprouting on the top of his head.
Both men move their mouths without a sound,
the elder reads directions from a hot pink brochure,
and the younger sings along to the tunes in his head.
They catch me
the watcher, the note taker,
looking at them, and go back to their business.
Two women test the strength of a bench.
They’re full and round,
wiggling as they position themselves.
They discuss their lack of air-conditioning,
lack of screens on their windows at home,
and their concern for the weight of their children.
They look over at me,
the curvy tattooed girl,
and compliment the colors on my skin.
I eat my granola.
Neither of them bother with the calories of their breakfast.
I make my exit.
Two loud men stand side by side in front of the station
both talking into the air.
Bluetooth pandemonium
on the other side of their heads.
It tricks me,
the fool who responds.
The man in grey curses loudly at his assistant,
while the man in blue tells his mother goodbye.
Two small women wheel their suitcases up the sidewalk.
They almost run into me,
a slow walker,
in their race to different destinations.
The blonde stops to tie her shoe,
as the brunette takes a left toward home.
Two fluttery birds twirl and swoop
in a low flight across ,
a waltz on the wind.
The sky begins to brighten over me,
the girl on the street,
as the birds twist their direction
and fly over my head.
Two happy dogs are on their morning walk -
a poodle named Stanley, and a Pug named Soup.
Stanley doesn’t want to go.
He only wants belly rubs from me,
a strange yet sympathetic passerby.
Soup sits in the dirt,
panting and peeing on his own leg.
And just down the street,
as I walk with a smile,
the speaker outside of the Corner Bakery sings,
“We are who we are…”.
