The Late Train

He must have greeted every coming train
That would have brought me back into his town
He must envision how distressed and pained
I rush and fall into his manly arms

He must have smoked two hundred cigarettes
and must have had a hundred beers.
He argued loudly with the night, upset
Out-screaming trains and blowing whistles.

He must have scrolled through every local paper,
Then strolled in angst along the station.
Policemen came and asked which train he waits for
He gave no explanation.

He must have damned me, and he damned himself
And all the trains and every single station…
When I arrived into his eyes, I found them spent,
From searching for my coat among the strangers.