Doors opened with a silent scream,
like photographs of anguish;
   the subway paused, shed cargo
and raged on.

     She lurched aboard,
          sagged into a vacant seat,
     frail weight of her gray years
hunched with cold.
      Numb fingers plucked at rags,
          drawn close against raw misery.
                   Knuckles, cracked and swollen white,
                      clutched into a plea for warmth.

      He, dark and lithe,
swung down the aisle,
  taut jeans dancing
rhythmically.
       With Latin grace
   he, sidling past
   her patient form,
               in one smooth gesture
         disappeared through subway doors,
leaving in her lap,
        like folded dove wings,
                    his black leather gloves.