As sour as a lemon is my mood
and murkier; a lemon is more clean.
I’m battling an acrid attitude,
besieged by crankiness and feeling mean.
But here’s a treat I didn’t think I’d have:
a 5-car train provides me with the seat
I want, alone and at an end — a salve
for me, like water after scorching heat.

Five stops we pass before I have to share.
Those 20 minutes are enough for me
to lighten up a bit, and less to care
about commuting without privacy.
I lost a pit or two inside that time,
and now I feel no tarter than a lime.

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