Crying Man On Train Poem by Jinx Rivera

The train was packed, we were sardines. I kept stepping on this guy's foot, I didn't say sorry but I hoped he knew I was
Blue line run, O'hare. I kept hearing that echo beyond my music
I go far enough to know that eventually, I'll have a seat on the train,
Which I did.
Sat down, try not to bring attention to myself.
The sun is setting, the light keeps flashing in my eye. It's quite bothersome.
I look around, and the man sitting in front of me catches my eye
He looks young but rather stressed shown by the powdery white flecks in his beard
He's holding his bag tight to his chest
Clinging onto it, I see his fingers strain with their grip
Almost turning red
Beanie covers his head, and his eyes look tired. He has profound under bags. I think nothing of it.
I probably look the same.
Same routine, same things, it's all tiring.
It's rude to stare
I do the socially acceptable thing and I look at my phone
I scroll on Twitter. There's always something going. My god
The light is bothering me again
I just want to go home, I look ahead to where the man is seated in front of me.
He hasn't been on his phone the whole time I viewed him.
As I look up I see tears brimming in his eyes
He holds on to his face, almost as if he's trying to fix it.
I worry for him even more
I want to ask him, "Are you okay? "
I don't though, he clearly isn't, what do I say to him?
He's a stranger.
Nothing that I could say to him would bring any value
I'm speechless
Does he want solitude in the public eye
Or does he want a shoulder to cry on?
What do I do? What do I do?
My stop arrives.
...
I leave he stays.
I hope he's okay.