The Pits

---

The sap is rising in the trees; the buds begin to swell.
I know that spring is on the way because the roads are hell.
The potholes multiply like mice, destroying my poor shocks,
bouncing me around until I've jerked off both my socks.
It doesn't matter, any road I wend my weary way;
a pothole lurks beneath the slush, awaiting me as prey.
Every year the same old thing occurs on my commute.
The car repairs are costing me a monstrous pile of loot.
I hope the potholes migrate soon up to cool Baffin Bay;
a hunting season would be nice -- I'd love to blaze away!
Until the potholes disappear I'll park my car somewhere
and dip into my piggy bank to come up with bus fare.
 

---

Windows Live™: E-mail. Chat. Share. Get more ways to connect. Check it out.

---

Windows Live™: Keep your life in sync. See how it works.