Prepare to fall in love with your morning commute.
Just kidding, that will never happen. But this poem by Max Stossel, titled "Subway Love," may make you reconsider your hatred for the chaos, impatience and dysfunction of New York public transition, by showing that love could be waiting just around the subway station.
It's sweet and all, but does anyone really want to deal with dancing, PDA-showing couples on the L train during rush hour? Love is dead.
