She was alone in the

bitter air of March; standing

so quiet, she was almost invisible,

except for the man smoking

across the train tracks.

They watched eachother

furtively, pretending that there

was no interest in the glances.

Indeed, any company would have

been welcome, but it was too late to

trust hazy strangers full of the

passion of a ending night.

She turned up the headphones and

wasted away into the freezing air,

hoping that her ride would

just goddamn get there already.

She was alone in the bitter air

of March; as the only other person there

boarded the train back into the

city, and she was left standing

like a windswept block of ice.

She wished she had trusted

him.