New Jersey is cold and cruel in October at midnight.
Or at least used to be before the world burned

The stranded students are discussing God and I swear it's not a metaphor for the delayed train.

Lines buzzing in the sky
Yellow lights
But it’s worth another ten minutes of patience before we bust out the price of a stranger’s car

Starting to suspect the train is broken down.
I don’t want that to be a metaphor either.

But maybe it’s not a bad metaphor
Because even if the train is broken
  there are still ways out
  still ways forward
  either on the soles of my own two feet
    worn
    tired
    determined
  or at the kindness of a few strangers

I don’t want it to be a metaphor but it seems I have no choice in the matter.
Such is life.
Such is symbolism.

Further metaphor: I am not the only person here
Not the only one freezing and stranded
Even as our fingers go numb we are not alone
The human spirit is durable
I’ve been dumped on the side of the road but still I can find love
Even me the one who cannot make friends
can make friends

So it seems that despite my best efforts I am living a metaphor

And the metaphor howls that I’m alright.

The train is here.