Tuesday, January 28, 2014

The Train

I detest the metallic scent,
I hate the air blowing, and the tracks, so bent,
I despise the PA system to the fullest extent,
Not to mention the remorse I feel when even those mere two dollars go spent.
The stopping and going is indeed a drag,
Imagining my jaded face sadly begin to sag,
I wish the train went to the suburbs, and not the ghettos in between,
But that would be nice, pleasant too, that would be heaven, be it serene,
I cannot think of a place that screams less excitement,
But then again, I can't think of a place that screams more taxes, bills, and indictment.
A more stolid, less organic and more uncomfortable place is nearly beyond my imagination's capacity,
What will I do? Be it from this day to nigh eternity?
From all the wacky and strange folks,
To obnoxious laughing and poor jokes,
From the meticulous elderly,
To the young, athletic and slenderly,
To the middle aged, the boring and disciplined,
From the IQ-depleting lore that goes on between two individuals every day,
To the fact that no one dares look at each other -- which appears to be the businessman's way,
And all the seemingly abandoned junkyards that have me say "Why oh, why!"
To all the exuberance exerted by children, thank God they don't cry,
How therapeutic they can be, 
That is, in contrast to the deeply dreary,
From the crossed legs, dressy socks, and leather shoes -- we must all suffer the train, be it now or when we so choose,
Riding the train is not an enjoyable experience,
Must we take by desire or force, may I say it requires but adherence.  

4. November 2009

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