University Braille

sitting in the stale heat of the carriage, watching the blind girl across the aisle. her fingers crawl over the pages of a plastic textbook, slick under the buzzing tubes. little white bumps raised up just enough for her to map the dark.

diagrams, hydrocarbons, chemistry.

her eyes are wide, blank, red-rimmed. the lids twitch against the glare while her thumbs slide over the grit of propane and ethanol.

I’m clutching a beer in a bag, the metal sweating against my palm through the paper. she’s memorising formulas for things that blow up. me, I’m tracking the map on the wall, waiting for the next platform so I can get out of the way.

the train rattles on, her fingers keeping the movement across the page.

those bumps,
the names of things that burn,
the train still rattling.