Sorry Said the Jaguar

I was trying to sell my 1990 Buick Reatta To a friend of mine, Jones, who had only one daught’a. It was for her to drive to school, And we were meeting in Albuquerque which was our rule. It was halfway for both of us. Can you believe he came with a friend? That little cuss. Not an ordinary friend, but a Jaguar, who talked. I was so bummed out at lunch, my voice came out and squawked. When the jaguar reached for the ketchup, his tail hit my knee. Under the table. He said, “Sorry, I hope you will forgive me. My friend laughed, he was nervous of course, But so was I, thanks to this change in our course. He and the jaguar took a test drive with me in the back. With a bunch of allergy-producing marigolds that made me so hack! So do you want it? When shall I deliver it? What is the date? I asked with excitement, for I was excited, and in a weird little state. “I’m sorry,” the Jaguar said, “But the daughter and I are going to mate. And frankly, a V-6 is not what we are looking for. We want a V-8.” Written and Posted on July 6th, 2019 Contest: Favorite Poem in Rhyme from July 2019 Sponsor: Julia Ward