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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #1856259
Cars just want to have a driver.
It all started when we decided to buy a new car;
they all drove down the street, some of them drove from afar.
Sedans and coupes for us to see;
they all blew their horns and then they uttered a plea:
“Fancy leather, chrome wheels, do drive me.”

We looked out to the street and we saw a shiny Kia;
there was a Buick Regal, and we said, “Momma Mia.”
The cars paraded past our view;
there were some that even tooted, “How do you do?”
“Keyless entry, V-six, turn my key.”

How they knew of our intent, we remain quite dumbfounded;
here we were, simple people, yet we were auto-hounded.
Headlights upon us, grinning grill;
on the street a line of pleading automobile:
“Automatic, fine sound, you will agree.”

There was a Honda Civic, we saw a Chevy Blazer,
up drove a foreign sports car that was sharp as a laser.
Nissan, Ford and a white Camry;
with their motors running they continued their plea:
“Clear coat finish, smooth ride, luxury.”

And there was even one that dwarfed all the other autos;
it was a truck with raised wheels, wearing those painted mottos.
Dodge Hemi, an imposing RAM;
it was comical to see the compact cars scram:
“Running panels, flat bed, come and see.”

We thanked them for their interest, then waved as they departed;
one mid-size was delighted, so we helped get him started.
Then with aplomb yet still carefree,
came a little Smart*, who then asserted with glee:
“Great gas savings, good price, do drive me.”

Lines 30

*Smart, which makes micro-cars, is an automotive
branch of Daimler AG, headquartered in Germany.

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