That’s Her Tragedy

(not mine)

‘twas Chicago o’clock
and all was hell

elevated trains
whispered loud sadnesses

waiting
letting time kill itself

when a woman, human
answered my shoe admiring gaze
with a similar gesture
in addition to enough
sarcasm and bitterness
to destroy us all
with the press of a simple button

I drifting
inside out of myself
examine my polluted sky
for an answer
and find none