Sailing towards suburban station, on the evening train again.
The train gets caught on the evening breeze, as the sky wells up to cry.
That station, desolate and unsafe at night.
In the morning,  part my daily trudge, toward my day of drudgery.
A visit on a weekday; just past dawn, buzzing hub-bub, outside the raging city lights; where students irritate and  working people congregate, before embarking on the day.
The morning station with no service, save for a solo ticket machine and two phantom trains that come together; three minutes between them, once in an hour.
The city station,  has all amenities, mean ticket barriers, you can't escape those barriers, never chance a ride for free.
Suburbia, after day of toil, not a toilet or a coffee to be found.
The evening station's nearly dead, resting, waiting for the morrow.
(c) Livvi