Train Journey

We were 5

He sat next to me
I felt him looking at Brown
Or was he already looking at the dog?
On my left, they were having a conversation
Each one on their phone
Speaking in their own language
At such intervals
That it sounded like a dialogue
While he pat her dog, from my right
Acting as if he knew her

She left and he said goodbye, dropping his phone
Did they know one another, after all?
Or was she just too polite?
And he too outside of our stupid conventions?
He kept muttering about the dog
I didn't answer, letting him think that I spoke no French
Since my book was in English
No one would know
Until we reached a new station

And then I was 1

En rentrant, je m'assieds face à l'écran
La réalité explose
Et le souvenir passe par le filtre de l'imagination