Thursday, September 26, 2013

The Train Car

I traveled into New york City yesterday, but it was not a pleasant experience. I put my observations into poetic blank verse form.


From where I sit the train is filled
with bobbing heads of gray.
A younger man man across the way
Is loudly on the phone.

I learned about his business plan,
I did not want to know.
He'll catch a cab in NYC
And then head off to lunch.

The graying pates just shake their heads
and some would turn to peek
To see the man who's rudely loud
And cares not that he’s heard.

But when some time has finally passed
The man has close his eyes.
His hand is tight upon his phone
To keep us grays from jail.

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