Dear Mr. Conductor (Or Madam),
I need your help to not hate what you are.
You, powerless like me, hold at least the knowledge,
Which you withhold, of why we are stuck here.
Move the train, dammit, or speak to the waiting
Some reason why our progress was ground to squeals.
You, robbed of your dignity in MTA blue, rob me
of mine, and I think you enjoy it.