In the blistering cold
The tram doors open
And I am greeted by dozens of
Turning heads
And bright eyes
Attached to bodies crammed together akin to cattle
I enter
Gingerly holding my mother’s hand
Pushing past the masses –
An elderly man speaks to my left
Mumbling something incoherent
And I bristle
Awkwardness and frustration
Reddening my cheeks
My mother and I are still attached
So I squeeze her hand
Three times
And let go
I find myself nestled between
Two woman
And shift where I stand
A degree of discomfort filling my chest
“Doors closing” rings out
Throughout the tram
And I sigh –
Departing