It isn’t a night coach, quite--
Evening train would be a fitter name
Authorized vendors perilously sway
Up and down the compartment’s aisle
Like sliders on slide rules,
balancing business on their callused hands.
A doubtful student couple across from me
Pinch and pilfer every chance and cover
For their stringent precious privacy.
Their eyes take over their speech
Their secrets are none of public business.
Their joy, though, requires public consent
Which they are loath to seek at the moment.
I steal a look
And return to my book
Hopelessly trying to concentrate.
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