What Stays With You

Someone in front of me rifles through a rattling plastic package. "Oh!" she says, thick annoyance souring her voice, "We're out of the cherry flavor."

So spoiled?

Pulling on a thick sweater (it's seventy one degrees!) but I'm still cold.

So selfish?

Eating, cake and fruit, snacking in frustration. "There's nothing here to eat", I say.

So pampered! Don't you know, don't you know how many those crumbs would feed??

And standing in the train station, packed in the crush of traffic, so uncomfortable. But there is space to breathe, I think. And they could push us tighter, and harder, until my legs are lifted off the ground, and I can't move, not at ALL, and I'm so, so scared, because I don't want to die...

But the crowd moves on, beacuse we are not in a gas chamber. And I must move on as well, wading through these modern luxuries, trying to preserve my new sensitivity while never forgetting to live.