waiting for the train with my friends

Alone I would remember this 

station for its filth. 

The group of men in the corner

The pungency of neglect. 

Instead, we are laughing.

Each picking up 

where the last has left off                                     

so that joy is a thing we build together

an endless chain of nothings 

that leaves no room, no air

to ask whether 

we have been permitted 

such fullness. 

My god, I had forgotten I could be like this. 

Unencumbered by the shape of life around me.

Bearing forward only the singular trueness

of my person

like a stream or a wave

a thing at once peaceful and resolute. 

When we return to our separate lives

I fear I will grow heavy again.

With the memory of some past smallness

or the weight of a new one to come. 

But in this moment 

I can see nothing 

except you

and through your eyes 

my very brightest self.