My Sad Attempt at Poetry

This is my sad attempt at poetry whenI wrote this in 5 minutes on the Fung Wah yesterday...

The hustle and bustle of New York City
and Life on the Fung Wah.
A parallel line between two,
beneath the glamour of the bright lights
lies the mentality of the Natives.
Might not be pretty but the job gets done.
Similiar to the the Knicks in the 90's,
present day Giants, what the Yankees used to be.
Blue collar sometimes ghetto.
The Fung Wah lady gets on the bus screaming
"one more, one more."
The gentleman puts his belongings on the inside seat
and pretends to sleep on the outter.
A veteran on the Fung Wah, I assume
however he was caught and had to move
for the late arriving couple.
An old Chinese man speaks loudly on the phone
in his native tongue as though no one else
was around him.
Yes, I could understand every word he is saying.
Of course, there is traffic
because everyone seems to forget
how to drive in the rain.
But this is the hustle and bustle of New York City
and Life on the Fung Wah.
Might not be pretty but it will always get me
where I need to be.