Eye Contact

Toothpaste on his collar

There were creases in his shirt

And someone stabbed a fag out on his coat

It made a hole; it didn't hurt

He never noticed

Squashed inside the train

The elbows in his ribs

Complaints

And smells of garlic perspiration

As the stations flew

No one talked

No one looked

His face turned china blue

He tried to push; he couldn't move

He tried to scream; no sound came through

Was heaving, bleeding from the inside

He died, still standing

No one noticed

No one cared

They'd steal a glance, but never stare

It never pays to stare