Laying low

Laying low,

I change trains,

Multiple times,

Looking over my shoulder,

At every change,

Every turn.

Are they staring?

Their staring, right?

Right at me,

Why are they staring?

Got to run,

Before someone sees me.

No photos,

Can’t risk being seen,

Angling my face away,

Away from cameras,

My body hunched over,

My shoulders caving,

Is it working?

Am I getting away with it?

Or have they caught on?

Are they waiting to catch me?

Should I run?

Again?