on a metra going downtown chicago

Drunk, drunk, drunk.  Makes people do silly things, why drink?

Her eyes are dark and tired.
Earlier she clung to him for comfort.
What is wrong?
What has happened?  I wish I could read minds.
Obviously they were celebrating, early St. Patrick’s day.
They look like they had one too many, I think.
Her friends – or whoever they are – told her they love her.  One pull herself up the bars to get her attention.
She ignored their pleading, but in the end she cussed them off.
Pain is evident in her eyes.
What did they do that hurt her so much?
Mock her?
Well, sometimes, that can be forgiven.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” She told them, hung up her phone.
They called again.  She hung up again.
She posed the same answer, when they called again.
No matter the pain, annoyance–no gentleness is found.
Everyone seems like an enemy; except the one who holds her hand.

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