Last Train Home

The Last living soul
On the night-life
Train
Buzzin’ down the tracks
Is nobody’s gain.
Only one left
Sittin’ in the cold
Sweat,
Hearing the rattle of ticklish wind
High pitched,
Outside the dull blue carpeted floor.
All cusp and wink;
Tried past the brink
Slowly to sink
Into this cold brown pleather chair.
Excitement, beware.
The last stop is me,
Befuddled
Yet full of glee.
Exhausted
Not needing
Anything.
Finally alone;
Finally free.