Society

The silver metal
Of the Metro train
Is stained with excessive humanity
Suffocating and overcrowded.
Sweating and jostling and pushing
And shoving and heaving and swearing.

A seat is to kill for.
Or at least, to knock-over-someone for.

And as I stand and try to bear it all
I notice a squatting peasant
Devoid of etiquette
And common sensibility.
(I mean
Who squats in the Metro?)

And I wage a bitter internal tirade
Against people who don't deserve to live
On account of lacking societal delicacy.

I, on the other hand;
Just because I'm tired
Doesn't mean I'll sit on the floor
And lower myself.
I've resolved to stand for what
Society thinks is proper.

I throw a look
Of opinionated disgust
At the peasant,
And he smiles back at me.

...

No mongrel half-beliefs
To get in the way
Of what will give him
Happiness.