Who doesn’t love a good transit poem? From Metropolitan Diary.

ODE TO THE G TRAIN

Your metal doors do not like diamonds glow,

And few admire your bright green neon face

You travel not where I most yearn to go,

And at a slow and steady snail-like pace.

Our schedules seem forever out of sync,

When I arrive of course you will have gone,

I patiently await you on the brink,

And wonder if your signal’s even on.

And you’ve been known to up and skip a station

So where you’ll go is anybody’s guess,

You travel on a route of your creation,

As if it satisfies you to digress.

And though I speak not praise, I must confide,

From Kings to Queens, you’re all I’ll ever ride.

— Hannah Rosenthal