At theater or ballpark, say,
Or on a lengthy flight away,
Let’s do the math
I’d like to shun:
Of seatmates, two;
of armrests, one.
The other person promptly plops
His elbow, which now
And jostles mine — it clearly irks
(I’m always seated next
I could surrender — take the jibs
And sit, my elbows pressing ribs;
Or mount a charge, just shove aside
Intruding elbow, turn the tide.
Of course, I won’t; I sulk and whine
But oh! I wish that armrest mine!