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