The final doors hissed shut a sigh

The final doors hissed shut, a sigh,

And pulled away from me.

Just me, beneath the buzzing sky

Of station misery.

I told myself, "It's what I planned,"

A casual decree.

To linger here, on empty land,

Just letting moments be.

The men in blue began to move,

Their plastic chairs they stacked.

A rhythmic scrape, a practiced groove,

My solitary act

Of choosing to remain, unseen,

While they prepared to close.

The station lights, a sterile gleam,

As everyone else goes.