Eary Morning in Transylvania

Half-dozing, slipping in and out of dreams of home
Train juddered, hissed and ground to a halt
Woke, head pounding, ready to bemoan
Loss of warm sheets, a taste like salt
In my dry mouth, jaws gaping, strangers snoring
Unconscious in the sweaty heat, lank hair
Shabby clothes, fag-ends on stained flooring
Still, stinking, gasping for fresh air
Plunging into the night, into clouds of steam
Billowing over battered buildings, rising like grease
Towards the moon's sickly and yellow gleam
Clinging to walls, staining a gaggle of obese
Scarved women, rushing like frightened geese
To board and fly through the treacle-thick night
To another town, tired, begging for release
Wreathed in smoke, mercifully hidden from sight
Train screams, writhes and is gone
Red lights fading, scraps of paper rustle
In a lazy breeze, I sit and wait for dawn to come
Engulfed in cheap tobacco, morning's bustle
Crowds of wrinkled, tanned, staring faces
Stopping and muttering as I clatter to bed
Eyes already drooping, untying laces
Cool feathery softness cushioning my head.