the plainness of his lips

She touches the cold steel of the empty seat on front of her.
The streetcar shakes.
the cool metal gently warms at her touch,
the cool metal scratched, but still gleaming in the sun.

she remembers the thick fleece of his vest,

the width of his fingers, the plainness of his lips.

The streetcar jolts and halts.

she hops off, continuing her journey.

she grazes a post with her finger tips as she passes,

to touch something, anything,

much as she longs to graze the crease of his sleeve,

his weather beaten cheek.

she keeps walking, towards home.

an indiscernible smile on her face. 

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