Keys, Please

I wonder looking out the window how it came to pass the car ran up a tree. Let Mario Andretti take a bow; its headlights glare and stare right back at me. It seems that Granny shifted in reverse, then swerved to miss the bike there in the yard. Might be we need a wrecker or a hearse; the Whomping Willow came down rather hard. The bike, though surely frightened, is unscathed. Though down a life, will soon take flight again. And as for Granny, she is freshly bathed, consoles herself with yet another gin. We need to have that conversation soon; for heaven’s sake, it’s not quite half past noon.