Scary self

The homeless are scattered
all over the well lit station.
My journey and I
are glued to the seat.
But my eyes jump across
buzz around them like flies.
They become the lamps carried by
guards searching for any missing links.
They turn into gangmen of that moment.
Make sure I am not derailed.
Crumbs of my many thoughts
get entagled in the sweeping beards.
And the cold shadow of my hand
does for a moment care.

The journey resumes.

But I remember the scene.
I grow heavy taking a mental note of it.
I remember to write it down later.
Hand over the lamp to someone else.
A lamp to be held against the darkness
A lamp that shows our scary self.