Rabble on the B

Let's just say,
I thought I would raise
a particular type
of child, but I won't.

I am waiting for the A train when I see
a fluttering file of bright green trees,
little children being herded
uptown to the museum.

They have their own natural history,
bopping their bowling ball heads
to unseen music, and laughing with
hysteria at empty soda cans and benches.
"Keep away from the platform's edge!"

I hope the text books are not too heavy
in your knapsacks, Little Ones.
I hope you know the rules
are not made for any badness in you,
but only for the makers,
so they can drink black coffee
at the local.

A woman wearing STAFF hut huts,
"No one should be singing!"
and gratefully, the savages and me
continued Singing Any Way.