In the bustling maze of the MTA,
Where concrete beasts roar and sway,
Obnoxious souls, they come to play,
Intruding on our peace each day.
With silent patience, we abide,
The fare-evaders, they do slide,
Sneaking past with stealthy stride,
Our sense of fairness pushed aside.
For those who carry carts too wide,
We part like seas, with nowhere to hide,
Blocking aisles, they do reside,
In communal space, they dare collide.
With strollers, too, they stake their claim,
Their path obstructed, just the same,
The young in tow, no sense of shame,
We sigh and cope, no one to blame.
From tiny screens, loud music blares,
Disrupting peace in public squares,
Notes invade our private lairs,
The bus, a stage for their fanfares.
And video chats, they boldly share,
With no regard for those who glare,
Their private lives, a public affair,
No boundaries held, no secrets spared.
Seated in the middle, they stretch,
Their bags and coats, a selfish catch,
Claiming space, a greedy batch,
The common bond, they seem to snatch.
Yet we endure, though we lament,
For the MTA, a shared torment,
Amongst the chaos, we find content,
In dreams of better etiquette, we're bent.