It's my usual line: I don't normally do poetry . . . unless it's got a tune behind it but Tracey K. Smith's The Good Life poem caught my eye last night when I was trying to avoid eye contact on the F Train. (If you knew the F Train, you'd understand that statement.)
Click to enlarge.
It's part of the Poetry in Motion series undertaken by the MTA to bring a bit of culture to those of us on the subway who've forgotten their book or their mp3 listening device or their knitted balaclava and who need somewhere to stare whilst their five year old proclaims in a loud voice: 'That seat's not orange, it's yellow. I want the orange seat'. (I'm paraphrasing but you get the gist.)