BARTing on the BART
Flying through the East Bay hills
Under water without gills
Cheerful beeps at orange tills
I am BARTing on the BART.“The doors are closing; stand clear of the door”
My ears pop as we reach the shore
Noise fades to whine from roar
I am BARTing on the BART.I’m a bay shore Giant and a downtown Raider
A nightclub hopper and a proud parader
I’m a mid-forties parent and a texting teenager
I am BARTing on the BART.Transfer here to make it out
Hundred thousands in the count
Connecting all the bay (but South)
I am BARTing on the BART.And I missed my stop.
Part of Poem-a-day 2012. Title donated by Tom L.