Connection

The soot of the night has stuck to me.
A man in front of me. Alone.
My personality is faced with me
on the dark, humming train.

Now I am woman. I could be man.
I could ask: why is it that I am woman?
I hardly ever find an explanation to
questions beginning with why.

I look the man in his forties up and down.
Jeans, cell phone, family. Somewhere.
His personality lights up in the night.
Rattling in the heart of the Budapest train.

To keep my womanhood, I smile.
I don't look at him. It's fair to him this way.
The connection responsible for us
still filters through the soot of the night.

That's how we rattle - that's how we have to rattle -
all the way to Szeged.
This is the night state of mind.
I think, probably, even God can't
find an explanation to the whys of our lives.