Trains.

I told myself yesterday. But I mimed it coherently today.
I heard the plug fill up with water, gargling and choking if only for a few seconds.
I'm sure the eye down there had squinted.
Maybe i shouldn't have called him
A lovely little thing.
Because he got the bus before last.
The centre of town had so many lights,
And I'm sure that water in the dock was deeper than it gave away.
The steel bench was grated and cold. But i was rather content,
in my tit and tat, with my tailored coat.
Waiting then, for just about any one.
I could see some stars, speckled in the gap through the clouds.
Still, they looked rather silver, and i decided they were standing in for the moon.
Who's place they had clearly stole.
My fingers were sort of, stained red.
I'd made a decision three hours before.
At home my bed was covered in cat hair.
And most likely dust. For a home from home was a then a permanent lust.



Some one ran in from the streets, they bashed through the door,
They were yelling to get there,
Screaming obscenities and love.
I must of been addicted to him by now,
For i was in the carriage behind.
Distracted by words on the door, I missed my stop by an inch
And had to leave with my hair behind my ear.
My ear not particularly present, what when stuffed with sounds and wires.
Shining like chocolate on a photograph,
I decided a greeting card wouldn't have done.
And thus my presence regained in your odd little town, 5 over from mine.
Demanding less subtle answers,
I called once more. But only through mobiles and automatic doors.
Constantly reflecting and smiling now and then.
Sinched in at the waist, hair really in for a trim.
You'd of mistook her for a local,
had a suitcase not entailed.

I almost forgot to write, and so to end before a story begins.