The seat goes on

I’m an orange-yellow subway seat. You don’t give me credit for doing what I have to do all day. You don’t consider what I go through. Ever. You don’t know the trauma I endure, having to witness so many bulging buttocks doing their buttocky thing. How many gassy asses press themselves onto my surface without regard for my feelings. You know nothing of how I exist. You think I don’t mind the way I spend my life. Sometimes I actually manage to get a soda spilled onto myself, just so I don’t have to face another uncaring ass like yours.