Getting the Hang of It

I'm only after the morning after, so I struggle to stand and to stagger with a dazed throng toward a sober train, with ferocious migraine addling my brain. I stare blankly at this blank-faced city, this hurrying horde of humanity; seems quite weird, but though among so many, each one is such a lonesome company. Some take the seats, others prefer to stand and each grabs the rail with a drowsy hand, hanging on an old hangover, gloomy; I say to myself: So very like me!