The problem with transportation

I always kiss you at the train station

Where our lives intersect.

You always go the other way.

Sometimes I see you hesitate,

As if you caught my heart in your throat.

Felt the need to give it back.

But you breathe in silent chastity

And watch the doors close in my face.

So here I sit in Adelaide,

Without a cent to my name.

Smoking butted cigarettes

And waiting for payday to come.