Missing Trains

I miss the train by 30 seconds. 'Excuse me,'
I say to a man on the platform,
'do you know when the next metaphor will be here?'
He checks the timetable.
'There will be another representation of your misfortune at 10.42,'
he says, tapping his watch,
'another two hours I'm afraid,' he says apologetically.
I take a seat on a bench. It starts to rain.
My pound is swallowed by the vending machine,
a dog cocks its leg, ominously.
By the time the 10.42 approaches
I realise my yoghurt is leaking in my rucksack.