Stuttering, sputtering, spewing words while noses were growing longer
than the grey shark that lay dead on the subway car floor, no stronger
words were uttered than a Brooklynese "phoque"  and then silence as
the stench of death and black humour.

The red bull can and a **** life, too many cigarettes, he didn't listen to
his wife, and she was no where to be found anywhere around the sub-
way walls and brick, mortar, concrete and rails with one like a taser.

SHOCKING!

Said the press, the greater subway transit authority has better things
to do, and I agree so a short poem about this will be all this brings
to the surface of a stolen idea, NYC has the dead shark, a but and
a can, while in Russia, wild dogs travel free, in those subway cars.  

cuz if it ain't safe for sharks it ain't safe for no one while in
Russia every transit traveler may pet and be near a dog, and give and receive
love.