The Ticker

by Mary Elizabeth Otte

Today as I stood at the train station
Abiding my time
My heart was a bit
At flight.
(It sometimes does this.
The doctors say it's not dangerous
Something to do with
Adrenaline
And my head.)
I changed foot to foot
And examined my ticket
Feeling quite stupid
And young.
So I took out a book
And thumbed through for awhile
While German voices
Grew like a mushroom cloud
Around me
And off to my right
A group of Afrrican men
Spoke their language
And spit pn the track.
I looked to my left
And I saw
A high ranking German officer
And I saw
That he was holding
Himself back.
A wave of something
Blurred my vision
And I looked hard at my book,
Trying to make certain
Both eyes
Were in working order.
They sometimes aren't
When my heart is a bit
At flight.

© 2004 by Mary Elizabeth Otte