Thursday, January 6, 2011

Another fragment of a poem

The 'ol 98 Pontiac is on its last leg.
The clutch is being reassembled
although the wrong parts
were sent to the automobile garage.
So they're over-nighting the correct ones
but now the car won't be fixed
until noon tomorrow
while I've just started on as a security guard
and need to be in by early morning.
I'll have to take a cab there and back.

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