Gone is the time when I enjoyed the train
ride downtown. I read, gazed at towns as they
glided by or closed my eyes and relaxed to the
clickety-clack of steel wheels on metal tracks.

But, no more. Instead, my relaxation is riddled by
blasts of hard rock or screaming hip-hop, a cacophony
of noises masquerading as ring tones, answered with
inane conversations escalating from waggling tongues.

It sounds much like a barnyard of gaggling
geese. Honks flow, roll, ramble, and meander
from the mouths of these insensitive souls. Curse
these impervious cell phone abusers, especially

the ones sporting those flashing blue lights
hanging on their ears. They spew malicious
gossip with no compunction, blathering on with
confidences that other folks should never hear.

Why can't they wait until no one else is near?

I'd like to shout: "Now listen people... I
don't care where the Mahjong club is meeting
or that your little grandniece is teething, not
even that your faithless husband is cheating.

Really, the constant prattle is quite annoying.
I'm tired of the frivolous babble bouncing off
windows, ceiling and the walls. I feel like
I'm being engulfed by a drenching waterfall.

Oh yes, a cell phone can be a valuable thing,
providing a means to communicate, and it's
an instrument for the over-wrought to ventilate
and even a means to announce a time to celebrate.

Yes, a call saves parents from being stressed,
and if one is late, a plea can assuage a boss
who might be irate. But, in spite of all, my ride
is now and forever, a noise-ridden hell.

"Oh, excuse me; I have to take this call."