The 8:05

I have often found myself wondering, as the morning train pulls in
where exactly I am going and where it is that I have been.

For some it's about the journey, and for some the destination.
But surely it all depends, on the arrival station.

Is this where I thought I'd be, when I hopped onboard this morning
or has my trip been diverted, unbeknownst and without warning?

Have I been in control, of this journey I have made?
Or am I just an actor, and it's been a part I've played?

Who is the fat controller, whom dictates where I go?
And why is that the trip, is always so painstakingly slow?

Should I take an express, or another faster train?
But what am I trying to skip, through pleasure or through pain?

Would my life be different, if it involved another station?
Or would it be no more then a subtle variation?

I guess I'll never know, instead I'll just ride the 8:05,
It's not the most glamorous trip, but imagine if I had to drive!

Written in the summer of 2006, while an intern on the way to my first real job.