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"I tell you, I’d prefer to stand -
Women are not helpless, you know."
She shifted the purse in her hand,
Which she seemed preparing to throw.
Patiently, I remained in place,
The newspaper under my arm.
While the angry scowl on her face
Showed her to be devoid of charm.
She then grew more belligerent,
Childishly stamping her left shoe.
This to passengers’ amusement,
As they wondered what next she’d do.
I stood firm, as her face turned red –
Was she going to blow her top?
Ever the gentleman, I said,
"Pardon me, dear, this is my stop."
© Richard McCusker (jotoma@bellsouth.net)
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