The Rail Queen

The night train whispers a word or two
Exhausted pulling into Union Station
A pause for the cadavers
The working stiffs to disembark
Stumbling onto the platform
Back home to squalor or security
Depending on the side of the tracks

But she is one to linger aboard
Relaxed by the rail's precise rhythm
The rocking of the car
Her solitude in this perfect hour
She slips up her denim skirt
Allows her fingers freedom
Their slide routing the ache of the day.