I spotted a golden feather on the edge

I spotted a golden feather on the edge of the concrete platform, waiting for me,
while I was waiting for the train. I thought of a joke, about rats devouring an
entire golden pigeon — but there was no one around to share the joke with.

A bum slept expertly on a too small bench, a woman pulled herself inward and
stood far away, watching her toes, and a very young man gave me a very rough look.
I picked up the feather, which was on a thin gold chain, but I stayed squatted,
close to the edge, leaning my head into the danger zone.

I could see all the way to the next station, where the train idled, its headlights
like tiger eyes in the tunnel-jungle. I waited there, poised, fascinated, as the train
approached and the eyes widened. When I finally stood, the woman and the young
man were staring baldly. We were all connected, all relieved that I had not jumped.

I dangled my feather for them on its chain, as if to explain myself — all of this in
just a blink of a moment — then the train roared its arrival, doors opened, and we
stepped into separate cars. It was late, past midnight.

-- Justin Torres