When your metro card decides to malfunction
squeeze through the turnstile with a stranger.

Carry your bicycle over your shoulder
during rush hour, glare when people touch it.

On a dare, piss between the moving cars,
then discuss while frenching your girlfriend.

Put your feet up on the adjacent seat,
occupy at least two spots with your baggage.

Blast your headphones loud enough for strangers
to hear just the bass of your Ricky Martin mix.

Eat greasy food and wipe your hands on the pole
spill coffee and blame the disposable lid.

Blast an eighties boom box, plink an old keyboard,
abuse children publicly, stare angrily at strangers.

Preach about Jesus and hating white people, say:
“Take that beauty stuff and shove it up you’re a**.

Find the cure to cancer instead.  I tell Ms. America that,”
don’t forget, curse loudly, add on, “F*** God while you’re at it.”

Perform gymnastics down the narrow isle,
nearly smash your head, slap the ceiling for effect.

Don’t mind the gap, feed the rats, trip up the stairs.
Slip on the wet floor, touch the third rail.