Yellow

Hiding behind my plexiglass reflection
I watch as others stare straight
ahead or down into their laps
Except a man in yellow --
under fluorescent yellow tubes.
I'm yellow.

He smiles.
What does he know?
No,
it's nothing.
I try to smile back
but can't
find solace in the silent stares.
I look down,
put pen to page.

Pages pass.

A lady in the back
fluffs frizzy hair
so wild,
the illusion of wind
when the window's closed.

Another smile?
Or smirk?
I write it down and wait.
This, too, shall pass
like staged shadows,
the sputtering flutter of flame
from sand candles,
like her,
asleep in the back.

So tired of life.
So far away.
Slipping down in her seat
behind the smiling
yellow man.