To a could-be former student on the C train 

I wish I could hear what you see 

across the aisle.  

What of me are you looking at? 

Quietly...have I changed  

from your 8 to my now? How? Much? 

(I am too far without memory refreshments so it's all you.) 

I want my students here. I want to hear from every one.  

Oh, I could make choices, have a guarantee of warmth   

or so I think. What I need is life-like wide-open surprising.     

I can take it. 

Was I casually hurtful? (Never on purpose. Not me.) 

Did I give you something? 

Did you love me?  

Did you like the chocolate chips?   

Someone gave me social insects, butterflies, an idea of a lovely life 

at 9 so I am sympathetic. 

     A boy from my class used to look down, hide when I would see him  

     in the neighborhood years after. On a bad morning I thought to say 

     Yo, Noah…I promise to say hi, acknowledge you never 

     so cut it out. I am deeply annoyed.

Could you be a gift?  A traveling mirror? 

Could you jump-start a temporally dying woman?  

I could see you mightn't want to.    

Did I take away distraction (plastic trucks were always popular)? 

I may still have it. 

I keep so much. 

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By Linda Umans