He is sitting across from me
On the stalled subway
Sunday morning: 1:45am
Unshaven, bulging cheeks
Bags beneath the dark eyes
Age 35-45
Black pants with food stains
Black shoes worn apart
Peeling leather, frayed laces
A Shake Shack baseball cap
A Williamstown Theatre Festival
Sweatshirt (W.T.F.)
A dirty blue backpack at his feet
His hands are clasped together, firmly
And his dark eyes are looking down
With a distant, contemplative stare
And I imagine him as
A hopeful actor
Dreaming of Broadway
Or Hollywood
Of shining lights and leading roles
For years through cramped apartments
Menial jobs, constricting poverty
Tumultuous and poisonous relationships
Forgotten sacrifices,
But he’s flipping burgers
For now
And waiting for that acting role
That will break him away
From burgers and late-night shifts
And stalled subway rides
Smelling like grease and sweat
But for now
He tells himself
Hold on
My time will come
Be patient
Hold on
I will wake up tomorrow
And keep going
Hold on
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