Subway Clown

A seat opened up on the subway
But just as I sat down,
I realized that my seatmate
Was an evil-looking clown.

It wasn’t just a metaphor –
He had a neon wig;
A stretchy black mask hid his face –
Now, what could be his gig?

It wasn’t noon; I doubt a party
Was where he was headed.
My New York paranoia
Sent me thoughts I kind of dreaded.

Perhaps he meant to do some harm –
He’d grab me if I stood;
My mind played the scenario
And it was not too good.

He never moved; his head was down
While all my pores were sweating.
I got myself worked up
And all for nothing, I was betting.

Yet when the train came to a stop,
I jumped out of my seat;
‘Cause sometimes where you sit
Might be a trick and not a treat.