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.