Poetry

Stitched

Written by Jacob Ibrag

I’ve asked for permission to not care. I’ve asked for acceptance in a

place that does neither. The orange chairs chase the yellow ones through

a tunnel. I sit next to an old man who’s head is rested upon his shoulder. Eyes

scatter across obscure advertisements and peoples feet. The stops get shorter

and space becomes limited. We’re all the same now, waiting and stitched.


Photo by Finn Skagn

Advertisements

9 comments on “Stitched

  1. Interesting! I’ve been aboard a number of domestic and international peopled transportation systems in my day. It’s never occurred to me to give this mode of travel such creative thought. If ever I am again though, I’m going to apply your words to my surroundings and the fellows that accompany me on yet another “stitched” adventure. Thanks for sharing!!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Great use of time & words -enjoyed

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What a great piece, Jacob πŸ™‚

    Like

  4. I like the line about chairs

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Thomas petty

    Got a real sense of place from the piece. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

What Do You Think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: