how do I loathe thee?
I loathe thy noisy trains,
so loud I cannot think.
I loathe thy overly fragrant passengers,
both those who never bathe,
and those who bathe in cheap perfume.
I loathe thy decaying stations,
I loathe thy brutal cops,
I loathe thy disintegrating tracks,
and thy rickety cars,
and the way they combine to cause delays,
each and every day.
I loathe the crowding on cars,
the criminals who lurk,
I loathe the urine soaked stairwells to the streets.
Yeah, I think I'll drive.
I know, it's not really poetry, but neither is riding on BART.