Sick Passenger

When they say on the subway,
“A passenger’s sick,”
You know there’s a problem –
So I get off quick.

“Police activity,” too,
Is a phrase I don’t get.
My mind conjures up
Every type of a threat.

When you live in New York,
Your antenna’s on high;
And you wonder what warning
Such words do imply.

But you rein in your panic,
Or push it away.
To be in New York,
That’s the price that you pay.

So you stay in your seat
Or you get off the train.
If the day ends up safely,
How can you complain?