I sit ten seats back
from the rest of them, for here,
the window scene remains stagnant,
never disappearing behind me.
The sun calmly submerges,
splashing out the moon
and some stars.
As we careen
into the deepening
shadows, the last
pinks and greens eddy
in reverse motion before my mind's eye--
it's so beautiful, and still,
everyone on this damn train
is staring at me.
I am a stranger, a foreigner,
backlit in this sultry
North-Indian eve,
but to someone out there,
I'm a mere silhouette
in the fluorescent lights
of a passing train car.
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