I was sitting on a train with my pad and a pen, trying to write a poem. I had no title, but I had written down the first line
-I was sitting on a train with my pad-
A man sat opposite me. After a minute or so of scanning his paper and throwing cursory looks in my direction he enquiried “What are you writing?”
“I’m trying to write a poem about a man trying to write a poem on a train who gets asked by a stranger ‘what are you writing’.
“Can I be in it?”, asked the man, the stranger opposite me.
“You already are”, I replied.
The train pulled out of the station.