When you're on the way to JFK, At 6 o'clock in the goddamn morning, It's a little hard to come up with verses For your shitty subway poem. While some crazy shouts about Jesus, While you slowly become one with the grime, While wondering "dead or sleeping" with a fellow passenger. You try as hard as you might to get to your final destination, so far from here, Yet in the end it crashes down onto you, with the overhead proclamation of "we will depart shortly." But the crazies continue yelling, the drunk remains passed out, and you rot away into the deep depths of the NYC Subway, On the way to JFK.
Written on May 1st, 2016 on my way back to Rochester from NYC.