Snoozyhead

There's this woman
Who gets on the BM2 express bus to the city
3 stops after me
I usually take the 7:15
But this day
Because the bossman was honeymooning in Greece
I decided to take the 7:35

I don't know her
I just see her occasionally
And have given her the secret nickname
"Snoozyhead"

Midway through the ride
She falls asleep
I'm talkin' "dead to the world" sleep
Her short, nearing 60 bleached blonde head
Propped against the window

She's never said hello to me
Even though on numerous occasions
I've nudged her awake
So she wouldn't miss her stop

I espied her from my window
And quickly changed seats
This day, I was out of sorts
Sad, worried, and not in the mood
To be obligated to prod old Snoozyhead

How dare she conk out
Seemingly without a care
While I have tears in my eyes?

I was putting the finishing touches
On my latest poem
When I glanced across the aisle?
Yes, she was deeply dozing
And her stop was fast approaching

Couldn't she hear the dinging bell
Heralding that we were now in Manhattan
And it was time to disembark?

I sat frozen by indecision
Should I tell the woman seated behind her
To tap her shoulder?
Or just pretend I hadn't seen her at all?

I chose to not be a good neighbor
And while I tried willing her awake
I watched as we went past
Her "pull out a cigarette and take a few puffs before work" stop

Then I got off my stop, leaving her serenely snoozing
And sailing blocks away from where she should be

Now maybe she's on medication
Or her hubby is a heavy snorer
Or she's got an invalid mother-in-law
That requires attention throughout the night

But I don't care -
So what if I didn't wake her up!

...Yet why is there a pitchfork
Poking at my conscience?