Riding the 4
I’m riding the subway (the 4)
Where you never know what is in store.
A character stood
Ranting loudly he should
Have a seat, which I tried to ignore.
His ravings got louder until
Someone rose to accede to his will.
Though he sat with a plop
His harangue didn’t stop
And we passengers’d all had our fill.
But the woman who sat to his right
Started cursing with all of her might,
Saying either he’d quit
Or she’d have such a fit
That she’d slice him to bits in a fight.
A Samaritan did intercede
So we never saw anyone bleed.
When the doors opened wide
He stepped quickly outside
With the ranter, a very cool deed.
The female, though, kept up her shtick;
Her anger was what made her tick.
I questioned the stars
Thinking, with all these cars,
Why was this one the one I did pick?
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