You know how a horse
Can smell the stable
Alright, so I’m cool
Line 9 the same
There at Belleville, five Chinese
Three men, two girls
Speaking in Chinese, whatever
World wide world
Usually, in the last train
I’m among the drunks and the derelicts
And nobody cares
It must be early for so many good people to be there
They look happy
Good for them
The gay Paris I guess
Who wants to hear about misery
Especially misery of folks you don’t know
And don’t really care about
So you look elsewhere as to not cross
Someone’s eyes
And you listen to the boogie
In the hope of home.
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Cinderella
Line 9 going to
Good part of town
She’s fat
Ugly
Alone
Yawning with vulgarity
She doesn’t care
She’s rich enough
Unlucky and sad
Pouting
Dad is paying
For the pain
So many fucking stories
Line 9, late
Going home, drunk, tired
As I board the train
There’s a guy laying on the floor
He’s not all there
He’s sucking his thumb
Looks like no pain though
Good for him
A simple old lady
Last train on Line 9
There’s this woman
Older, poor, spent
She has a ring
On her left hand
So she’s married
She’s obviously going
Home from work
Kids long gone
This late
Her husband
Had to cook dinner
For himself
Her eyes don’t say
That she’s thinking of him
Oblivious of drama
She’s picking her nose