Self-Indulgence

Let me pose a question. If you, by chance rode the
cross-town train to the  downtown station and, due to
over-crowding, found yourself sitting next to  yourself
That is, you and another you are both sitting, that is
squished together on the same seat staring at each
other, and you smile and so do you.

You ask the time and you reply you have no watch.
Of course it’s late. The subway car fills further.
A sharp bend in the tunnel throws its contents to one side.
You and the other you are pressed together.
Your breast rubs your breast. Your legs entangle. Your
face is in your hair. An awkward state of affairs indeed.
Glancing round self-consciously, straightening your
back, you’ve found yourself attractive and it’s natural to
react.

What do you do? What do you do?
Do you ask your self to dinner? Suggest a quiet corner bar?
Your heart is pounding in your chest. There isn’t time for
second thoughts. In fact, the train is at your stop.
Careful not to turn around, you exit down the crowded aisle.
Pushing through the narrow doors, your feet touch safely
to the ground. And you are you. And you’re alone. The
woman of your dreams rides on smiling at the secret.