The end of the line
After twenty-four hours or more on a train
I sat in Union Station and waited for something else to happen.
As we'd trailed along the TexMex border
I met a man who only talked about muslims.
Couldn't understand why we'd let our country
"be controlled by them"
But then he thought my country was called Europe
And he did keep looking out of the left hand side of the train.
Later I found a young woman to snuggle with under a blanket
We kept warm in the chilly air-con overnight
Her name was something Spanish but I don't remember
I want it to have been Desdemona
But it wasn't that
I think I got confused because she got off in Pomona.
