In Transit

In Transit

Sometimes you get stuck.
Waiting.
Sometimes you gotta run to keep up.
Or miss your ride.
In transit.
On the go.
I usually read and ride.
Stick my nose in a book.
The scenery flows along outside the window,
but I seen it so much.
Over and over again.
Next stop 29th Street!
Okay only a few more to go,
then I need to make my connection.
Most of the time it's okay.
Some discomforts.
Some disorders.
But overall efficient enough.
Occasionally you're next to a strong smell.
Who ow—that can be pretty ripe.
Like stinky cheese.
Or sour B.O.
Amazing how “they” don't even know.
Of course they're used to it.
And sometimes a real Adam Henry.
Taking two seats.
One for his feet.
Pigs. Morons. Jerks.
In transit.
You get it all.
Depending on the day, the ride, the time.
Keep cool.
Mind your own business.
Pay attention to the stops.
Get ready when you need to get off.
Sometimes packed in there like little fish in the can.
Sometimes almost alone.
Fighting for a seat.
Fighting to get inside.
Sometimes it's like that.
The doors close on you.
Nip you in the arm or leg.
Just keep moving.
Try again.
In transit