Poem 14 is for James Edward, who is busy living free or dying up there in the Badlands of NH. Depends on the day. This is also for all the divas riding the rails who feel a bit of entitlement.

 

“No one knows better than me”

 

Dear Ms. Andry,

Why you so angry?

‘Cause I would not give up my seat?

 

Don’t be surprised,

When we lock our eyes,

And I am where you want to be.

 

I will not move,

I’ve nothing to prove,

And will sit here most happily.

 

Seems a matter of course,

That the seat is not yours.

Equality redefines chivalry.

 

Your haughty high huffs,

Only deepen rebuffs.

So stand on your two equal feet.

 

Limbs all intact,

Enough with the act.

You’re certainly not elderly.

 

You have no preg paunch,

So I’ll remain staunch.

I’m equally as tired as you.

 

Turn off your dull pout,

You will not win out,

My arse is on this seat like glue.

 

I avoid your stink-eye,

And not meaning to pry,

But you look like the cat’s got your tongue.

 

I’m not in accord,

With your air of import.

Stop being so severely high-strung.

 

You seem to insist,

But I will resist.

You cannot have it your way.

 

You’re doing so great.

Standing so straight.

Guilt will not make me your prey.

 

Here is a prop,

I get off at next stop.

You can finally have this seat.

 

What’s that  you say?

You get off at the same?

No longer a chance to compete.

 

 

 

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