Not from here, this train,
Nor the darkness we hurtle through,
The sun going down, I don’t have to explain;
We all know the sun is miles away,
And the conductor, is he from Spain?
These passengers, or you, or you,
Not from here, these commuters,
Already from another day
Spent, huddled with their phones and computers,
Not from here, expertise or parts,
The communication, the view,
Not from here, but here is coming due,
Not from here, but here, sentimental hearts,
I am here, here, moving into ear shot
Of the one I love,
The night, a blot,
Even as she, there, continues to move.
