First time to NYC, walked into an empty car during rush hour thinking I was a genius. Doors close behind me, a woman, and her teenage daughter.

Brightness spreads across the cars,
The evening hour is not so far,
Shills run by in search of space,
Late for happy hour place.

Oh an empty car is found,
Without a soul can sit down,
Or go in that crowded hell,
But that’s where my iPod fell.

Now a strong stench hits the air,
The funk of 40,000 steps,
As the doors seal up our tomb,
Confidence turns into doom.

And though I fight to be calm,
My tourist nose does quiver,
For no commuter can escape,
The dookie of the filler.

It was empty because a homeless man was shitting in a garbage bag.