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Chattering Voices
I pick up their idle chatter five days of the week.
Conversation with other passengers, I never seek
to learn of a secret one of them might privately leak.
But try as I might, I cannot help but overhear
a new recipe she tried, or the reason for his fear.
Sometimes, I wish I was deaf, at least in one ear!
I try reading my newspaper and ignore the prattle,
but often it's louder than the train car's rattle.
I'm not interested in the gossip of their tittle tattle.
At least the man with the cigar, smokes it outside,
or I'd take another tram. Cigar stench I can't abide.
I live in the burbs, so it's a long way home I ride.
Today, there's a young lady who wouldn't take a seat.
She looks worried, or at least somewhat browbeat,
like the people I work with down at Dun & Bradstreet.
I often wonder what's on the young conductor's mind.
Does he despise his job because he feels confined?
I'm off at the next stop, where I leave them all behind.
Copyright ©
Lin Lane
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