passengers

we know each other
but don't, not really.
we ride the same train
everyday and nod
in silence on
our way to work.
sometimes she'll
surrender a slight,
but uninviting smile.
but we never talk. she
has a book, i have
a paper. we get off
at different stops
and on occasion we'll
acknowledge goodbye
with a slight tilt
of the eyes towards
the direciton of
the sliding doors,
or a movement of legs
to let one or the
other pass by. this
goes on through
every season, each
with our umbrellas,
our boots, our hats.
and the months fold
over into years, but
still we never speak.
and it's why our
marriage has survived
for so long.