Imagination’s Companion

It never had any expiration,
nor did he remember when or where

he discovered it.

Like a worry stone in his pocket,

its presence gave solace.
Except it wasn’t a stone.

It was especially comforting
in romantic movies,
all night fast food joints,
dark barrooms,
Starbucks’ lounges,
rain-soaked streets,
anyplace he was alone.

Like the pass key of a dream,
it stayed in his pocket,
a companion as he sat alone
in his favorite subway car,
always at night,
always stopping at empty stations,
Year after year.

Then at one stop,
a whisper from nowhere said,
“This is it.”

Dreamer as he was,
he exited onto an empty platform,
save for the angel-like woman in all white,
smiling,
gesturing to follow.

He’d never seen such a bright color
Streaming down a subway exit before.

Yes, he thought.
Maybe this is it.
My stop.
My very own exit.

Peering into the sunlight…

He smiled back.
He fingered his pocket.
His companion had…

 moved on?