Catching my Eye on the Train

She sits opposite,
eating,
slowly.
Automatic eyes
looking through the departing platform.

Kitchen lights are on in the towerblocks.
In twilight yards,
the orange jacketed
knock off.
An abandoned bicycle,
two boys smoking in the park,
and always, optimistic washing lines
defy the season.

Then there's only me in the window,
and you.
The silver ball on your ear
swinging with your jaw,
slowly.
Automatic eyes
looking through my reflection,
into the night.