to the stranger sitting beside me

who are you?
I long to ask,
and where do you come from?

curiosity burns inside,
where more questions form -
are you going home?
visiting friends perhaps?
you don't look married,
no, too young for that.
are you a reader too, and
do you really want that window seat?

I lose myself
in these questions...
I play with them,
arrange them in towers
letting them grow,

while outside,
the silence continues
and I gather what I can
from the book she is reading,
the way she looks,
her shoes,
her bag,

when suddenly, she asks
so, are you a student?

the ice is broken -
why was I not the one?

I answer politely,
we strike a conversation,
there is one less stranger
in the world.