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The Commute

I worked for Boeing when I first met Fred Liked him the instant he called me “brain dead” We were both part of the same office mob Both engineers fairly new on the job I was single then, but didn’t last long Got married and then my Corvette was gone Being married soon my budget was tight When Fred said, “Let’s car pool”; I said, “Alright” Fred drove first on our initial commute The car he was in, was tiny and cute “It’s a Vespa”, he said, “easy on gas” I’m thinking, “In a wreck, I’ll lose my ass!” The engine inside was like a lawnmower A small two stoker, but still was a goer It wasn’t long before carpooling died Fred could drive so cheap, all I did was ride What Fred charged was ridiculously small And on every commute we had a ball Other commuters would stare at the car Till finally I said, “This has gone too far” If someone stared, we’d talk about their car Really loud, so they’d hear something bazaar It was always a put down of some kind We got really good at it over time Every trip to work and back, we had fun Except an earthquake hit while on one run Seeing telephone poles sway to and fro Just wasn’t my bag, I want you to know From his house to mine, wasn’t very far I played the uke and Fred played guitar We’d get together; play and sing a song Our friendship today is still very strong Just as we are close friends, so are our wives We’ll be that way for the rest of our lives Space between triglyphs in a Doric frieze? If you see Fred, ask for an answer please! (I’d sooner Lipton!)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2011




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Book: Shattered Sighs