Riding the 4

I’m riding the subway (the 4) Where you never know what is in store. A character stood Ranting loudly he should Have a seat, which I tried to ignore. His ravings got louder until Someone rose to accede to his will. Though he sat with a plop His harangue didn’t stop And we passengers’d all had our fill. But the woman who sat to his right Started cursing with all of her might, Saying either he’d quit Or she’d have such a fit That she’d slice him to bits in a fight. A Samaritan did intercede So we never saw anyone bleed. When the doors opened wide He stepped quickly outside With the ranter, a very cool deed. The female, though, kept up her shtick; Her anger was what made her tick. I questioned the stars Thinking, with all these cars, Why was this one the one I did pick?