I watch a woman sketch me as we ride,
her oval face confronting me or down-
cast on her hidden lap, eyes open wide
or forming crescent moons in lashing brown.
She tries to be discreet; she makes her stare
unconscious seem, induced by dull commute.
But I have seen her twice now; I’m aware
she’s drawing me like tapestry or fruit.

Again she studies with an empty glance,
her features nondescript, her visage plain.
Again she eyes her work. My time is spent
recording her in words. By happenstance,
two people out of many share a train
and mutely take each other’s measurement.

First published in Alehouse 2007