iPod on and scarf cinched tight,
Daylight hours turned to night.
Storm clouds raced across the sky,
I heaved a heavy hearted sigh.
Drops fell down and slowed the trains,
Order stopping when it rains.
I was cursed crammed waiting there,
Sullen platform of despair.
But to my left a maiden stood,
Doe eyed fawn in darkened wood.
A fat man stood ‘tween her and I,
A better glance was thus denied.
Springsteen told me in my ear,
That ‘Better Days’ would soon be here.
For tough commutes he hits the mark,
As we dance on in the dark.
Doors sprung open, whistle sounds,
A combat trench, mortared grounds.
Arms and torsos formed barbed wire,
We gained little through the mire.
Body squished, Springsteen fading,
No hope left, Reaper waiting.
But wait, behold, something good,
For over there a hot girl stood!
Eyes of blue and locks so yellow,
Bare ring finger showed no fellow.
Skin so tanned and face divine,
Quoth the poet, ‘Damn yo, she fine!’
Men all turned and gazed perversely,
I snuck glances, though quite tersely.
I would not stare and be an ass,
(Plus, her reflection was in the glass).
The air was sucked right from the place,
Guts retracted with all haste.
Then came my stop, Twenty-Third Street,
Dreams withdrawn, forced retreat.
The doors slid open and I moved by,
Fighting back a desperate cry.
But as I passed to make my leave,
I thought she might have smiled at me.
Problems faded, world turned right,
The sun had risen in the night.
And so this ode, from all of us men,
Who ride where no more hope had been.
You make us smile and brighten days,
With magic wily womanly ways.
And where there’s guys, however few,
There’s little doubt, we’re staring at you.