Ipods on the train

A Poem by Angelstears

What a joy!
Usually I wish that they’d just turn down
the tinny rap,
or heavy metal drumming
and screaming.
Escaping those tiny headphones
of a lanky, spotty youth in a baseball cap
lounging, limbs spread across four seats,
or the dark haired, dark nailed boy dressed in black;
a shadow on the seat pressed close to the window.
Or worse those that sing along,
It’s usually girls,
eyes closed, full make-up,
wearing miniskirts and vest tops,
dressed up just to go shopping.
They start with a whisper that you barely notice
but builds up into full blown singing,
you cringe at every off key word.

But for once I find myself smiling,
unseen by you,
a normal looking brown haired male.
I actually recognise the music.
I actually like the song,
And I’m wishing you will turn it up.

But just one plea…
Stop Track Hopping.
How can you enjoy hearing half a song?
And another thing,
yes, I do like this particular song,
and I’m guessing you like it too,
hearing it once, twice, even thrice is fine,
but on the seventh play
I’m regretting ever praising your music taste.
And I find I’m wishing you would just turn it down.