Opportunity

My stomach drops. I fall back in time to
three minutes earlier
9:06 ~
the train releases a hiss of fire breath
as I load off the steel snake
onto the concrete platform:
one step
two step
three.
I glance down at the figure by the wall,
life’s accumulations piled around her feet.
Hair matted to her brow.
The flawless concerto she plays bouncing off the walls.
The strings of her bow
hanging off like floating foxtails.
I’m lulled in as if the strings are wound around my heart.
I peer around the lip of the cup by her leg —
Empty.
The crunch of paper cash
burns deep in my back pocket.
Opportunity is like a ghost in a shell:
the faint ringing in my ears,
[ dull panging at the walls of my mind ]
calling out
“Slip the bill into the cup”
No.
I need it for 1. breakfast
2. clothes
3. anything else …
Walk fast
walk fast.
Don’t look
don’t look.
I know I’ll get the ‘missed call’ notification.
Opportunity never leaving a voicemail,
only a single ring to remind me of a
different path,
a different way.
A chance I didn’t take.
Of what was,
what could have been.
But opportunity doesn’t discriminate;
you and I hear the same song,
hold the same cash,
And we both walk past the same lady.
~ 9:09