Window Seat

It’s the middle of the morning’s night
And the air is so very cold.
Before I board the bus I find
My seat waiting in the hold.

Way in the back, collapsible,
And with a spiffy plastic armrest.
I’ve always sat up in that perch,
As the driver can attest.

But as I’m pulling out my pass,
Before I can reach the door,
She standing there, she’s in my seat!
Left me rolling on the floor

Laughing.

’Cause now I’m in this window seat
Looking up Pluto and Ceres.
’Cause now I’m hooked on dwarf planets;
Makes a fascinating study.

I don’t have time to analyze
With studious methodology
The findings of the IAU which
Established that category.

’Cause I’m sitting in this window seat
Trying to stay alive.
’Cause the temperature is dropping
From ten degrees to five.

My old seat is hers now,
And the plastic armrest, too.
And though I’d gladly fight for it
From Eris to the Moon,

I won’t.

’Cause I’m loving this old window seat
Despite its lack of legroom.
’Cause being cramped is not so bad
When you’re vilifying Pluto.

Turning printed pages softly
Over in my hands,
I’m sitting still and grumbling,
Mulling my latest plans.

’Cause I’m waiting in this window seat
For another day to end.
’Cause on the way back home, I’m sure
I’ll have my former seat again.

Real sure.

’Cause I’m brooding in this window seat
’Cause I really don’t like change.
And sitting in this window seat
Is picking at my brain.