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.