When the earth’s eye shuts into darkness I fight to keep mine open.
Every night I hang around
like some schlup
standing on the side of the tracks
while the rest of the world – riding coach – sleeps soundly in their seats.
From the platform I watch them take-off
and stare idly at my un-punched ticket
trying not to think about
what it all means
to let oneself
But I can’t help it.
They must be going places.