Grape Soda
My seatmate on the subway
Started taking out his lunch,
Pushing dreadlocks back and headphones
As his sandwich he did munch.
In his right hand was a soda,
Flavored grape, so said the can.
(By the way, on food and drink in subways
There exists a ban.)
I was sitting on his right as he
Quite deftly popped the top
And although the train was lurching,
Well, he never spilled a drop.
Which was fortunate for me because
My pants and top were white
And some purple soda speckles
Would have spoiled my day and night.
But we shouldn’t judge our neighbors
Or expect them to fulfill
Every purple drink’s desire,
Which is itching for a spill.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
