Comments Inbox
| |
About This Poem
Running On Fumes
When I go to buy gas,
My teeth I want to gnash,
And I curse 'neath my breath,
And want to choke the hose!
Save room at the poor house;
I am gonna need it!
Gas is awful high.
Four bucks a gallon!
A loan from the bank.
Might help somewhat to,
Fill my empty tank!
Those crude cartels,
Control each drop.
And what is worse,
They drain my purse!
Help Congress!
Off your duffs!
Ease my plight!
My car
Gasps for
Gas!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 8 in David Williams' "Diminished Hexaverse" Contest - June 2012
|
|
|