i got lost on my way here, my mind stumbled over the underground lines
like a child's excitement for a new toy. WAIT
i'm not saying this is a game, no, no.
This is my first time i found peace not between dead inkstained-
oak or elm or whatever they use to write books where the characters-  
are as alive as the train i traveled on to get here.

i'm not using you, no, no.

Forgive me. Now my tongue's the one all tripping over itself.
Can yours come over, and tell mine a good morning story?
(i'll pay for the coffee.)