gak
The sun is shining
The taxis gleam
The frozen bridge-walkers sway
I’ve never seen such a day
No rides from the MTA
But it’s clear Christmas is coming
Hire me Bloomie I’ll get those trains running
I’m dreaming of a strike Christmas
Walking to work thru wind and snow
Where the traintracks glisten,
and lawyers listen
To commuters crying in the snow
I’m dreaming of a strike Christmas
With every transit card I light
May you freeze your ass while unions fight
And may all your Christmases be strikes
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Dec 20th, 2005 at 4:11 pm
It could always be worse. You could be in Poland. BLS
PS Sing it, brother!
Dec 21st, 2005 at 12:28 pm
I bet you’re regretting the fact that you never invested in an NYC party bike built for 6. You’d be making a killing with one of those–charging $2.50 a ride.
Word on the street is that these select bike owners have been making disparging remarks towards walkies and asking “Who’s the genius now?” as they rumble all crazy-like around the streets of Manhattan.
Dec 27th, 2005 at 3:09 pm
I must say, that is one wicked good poem; I really like it.
Happy New Year!