lovers on the tube

riding a long escalator down to the platform to the Northern line I notice them
his hands up under her thin white sweater
one hand wrapped up over her shoulder
the other caressing the back of her neck
whisps of her short brown hair at his finger tips

besides his hands, all i see of him is the top of his face - eyes closed - lost in the kiss
he pauses, opens his eyes, smiles, looking at her sideways
plays with the hair on her neck
closes his eyes and kisses her again

their passion is palpable - almost magnetic
i can't quite pull my eyes away
i remember love like that - consuming - gentle - beautiful
being lost - the rest of the world melting away as he kissed me on the MUNI in the middle of the night - no one else mattered except us - his lips - our love
now i have to look away

i question myself - can a love like that come again - or will it forever be different
and does different mean better - or never quite so alive
is it only possible to get lost like that when you're young - the first time
and does one want to get lost like that anyway?

i want to believe - so i choose to
but being confronted with the image of that kind of passion
only a few steps away from me
the raw power of the two of them together
gives me pause