Metro Man

I kept looking for her in crowds.

She was a slim lady with puce eyes and a smile that reminded me of politics.
Suffice to say she ex-hued power.
I wrote into one of those Metro columns called “Love on the Tracks” or “High Speed Link to Love”.
There’s never been a reply.
I wrote into one of those Metro columns saying, “I saw you on July 22nd at East Croydon. I was the guy reading Dan Brown and I let you go before me in the coffee queue and when entering the train. You smiled at me as if i was courteous and my actions pleased you. You changed my life”
I read it the day it was published, it made my heart smile.

The week after that I was a giddy little schoolboy scanning every face, nonchalantly walking through every carriage of the 7:15 to Victoria. 
I never found my perfect seat. 
I would crave one of those 4 seaters with the little plastic table jutting from the window, empty apart from me. I’d sit facing forwards so as not to get travel sickness with my Karrimoor rucksack on the seat beside me and a cardboard cup of coffee resting in my palms. She would sit on the seat opposite me. Not directly but opposite my bag as if it was too soon to be that familiar with a person but not a problem to care for an inanimate object. My inanimate object. Our eyes would meet as we both stared out of the plexiglass window at Battersea Power Station and I would see inflatable pigs tethered in her eyes. I imagined where she would lunch, she had far too much grace to touch Pret or Benjiis & would probably just eat something from home. I wanted to see her at Speakers Corner. I wanted to stand up and say “Here yea Here yea! I am yours.” 
I wanted everyone to hear me. I wanted her to hear me.

I kept looking for her in crowds.
She was the love of my life and the memory of her smile reminded me of needles.
Suffice to say she ex-hued power over me.
I wrote a letter to try and find her despite only meeting her once.
There’s never been a reply. 



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