I ran across a draft poem the other day that I never did anything with. I’ll clean it up a bit and post it below. It probably is not one of my better efforts. I have no idea when I wrote this.
Dashboard
I’m a fine chap, really— Friendly, a good conversationalist, Articulate, but not garrulous. When I start the engine, Why does my car confront me And call me “Airbag”?
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