Sunday, riding the Northern line.
The tube is nearly empty.
I look over and
There he is.
His trousers are caked with mud.
His face is smudged and beautiful.
He hasn’t moved.
Is he asleep? Passed out?
Can’t stop looking. Have to
Move down toward him.
His arms have been washed clean.
Soft blond fur covers them.
Our train jerks, speeds forth, turns.
He does not wake.
He’s pliant; a manly rag doll.
I’d like to know what he smells like.
Stops come and go.
Will he miss his? He’s unaware.
Will I miss mine? I can’t
Stop looking.
What’s he dreaming about?
I take his photo.
Seven times.
I hope he doesn’t wake up.
I hope he does.
I want to tie his shoe.
I wonder what kind of man he is.
I wrap him up, pack him away
In my mind.
Text & Image: Kenneth Hill
Tagged: London tube, people watching
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6 Comments
I don’t know why, but I teared up reading this. It’s beautiful, exciting and a little bit sad. I love it x
Thank you Sally. Your words mean a lot. xo k
Oh, that’s Very nice, Kenneth…:)
That’s really beautiful KH.
You’re like the paparazzi!
But your audience is pervs like me!
I had a similar experience on BART in San Francisco, but with a younger guy, a teen skateboarder, asleep in the row in front of me. I looked at his dirty face, scuffed shoes, battered skateboard, and wanted to know his life story, wanted to be part of his life. It inspired me to write a short story, “Gravity,” with ultimately was published in the Harrington Gay Men’s Fiction Quarterly. Thanks for this beautiful entry. It’s nice to know that these men can make us resonate at the same frequency.
A brief excerpt, the skateboarder is named Bellamy: “They had met on Friday night at Ganymede, where men like David, in their Prada and Ferragamo suits, went to meet boys like Bellamy, who clad themselves mostly in bravado and insouciance.”