Subway poem

What if the subway announcer could hear herself
calling through the old speaker like one chicken

in a fiery barn full of choking chickens?
Would she say, Oh no, oh no,
what a waste?
Would she say, I am a diarist then,
of stops and service changes?
Or would she say, How like any human calls
mine are. A woman pushes a stroller,
and the sound is like crackling fire as its wheels
unstick grit from the ground.
Crackle-ta-crackle crack!

Lamentation

I curse myself, curse myself, curse myself

for not getting the omelet.