I know you.
I can smell your cell's RF scent
when you enter the station.
I can see your body
from ultraviolet to infrared;
watching you get hot
when you see the cute boy
with the spiked hair.
And I can hear your heart's murmur
from the back corner of the train.
But you don't know me.
You may see me,
but you do not perceive me
the way I dream that you do.
You are oblivious of my desire,
as I am oblivious of the thoughts
in your head.
And so we pass.
You exit at Kendall,
heading towards your 7th floor,
corner-window job at Biogen.
And I continue on,
watching.
Some day you will see me.
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