You were a Rembrandt on the subway train.
Critiques of art would surely say
The canvas of your worldview
Rivaled masters in their day.

You were a tour de force of heavy strokes
That rendered my depiction feeble.
Your lambent eyes and lightning skies --
Why hurricanes are named for people.

To you, I was a peculiar stranger
Leering through the morning rush.
Admiring your impassioned presence,
Your steady hand and vital brush.