For the Next Person

Not a tag. Tags are for walls,

for the side of a building at eye level,

for everyone.

This is a sentence scratched into vinyl,

the headrest of seat 34C on the evening train,

positioned so it faces rearward.

You can only read it from the seat behind.

I've been sitting behind it for three weeks.

Today I took out my phone to photograph it

and then put my phone away.

That felt like a decision

about something other than the photograph.

The person who scratched it

knew exactly how many people would see it.

Not many. One at a time.

Each one thinking they'd found it.

I've been thinking I found it

for three weeks.

Tomorrow I'll sit somewhere else.

Probably.