I don't know the stations' names
I'll spend my life on this train
Magnetic Fields
Late at night I watch the rats play hide n’seek in the subway tracks. Monday and Sunday nights are the worst, the trains don’t run much and nobody’s around. At 2 or 3am, I’m coming home from work, alone. The stations are deserted, dank, desolate holes in the ground. It feels like I’m the last person on earth. A helpless curtain of fatigue settles over me. I’m hungry, tired, maybe even slightly drunk. I stare at the water marks on the ancient tiled tunnels. I eat some greasy chips bought from a weathered vendor accustomed to this subterranean habitat. How many more nights will pass like this?
Then I pull the hood out of my coat and curl into it. Maybe I can sleep a little while I wait.
When I finally get on the train everyone around me is drooping like dirty, wilted flowers. Seeking reprieve in blessed sleep.
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