Staring at my reflection in the window of the subway car
Contemplating my own wretchedness
Finding myself judging the other
Folk I don't even know
It's not them I'm angry with but
It's me
I'm angry at myself
For getting on the wrong train
And having to thus trace my steps and go backwards
Nothing I hate more than backward motion
But still I seethe with disgust
At the man picking his nose like he's digging for gold
At the women eating a full on meal together
Like eating itself is going out of style
