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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Inspirational · #2191962
A young man touches down in a European country only to find...A strike!
You tell me
that I need
to take
this train,

But I've been
telling you
since I got
off the plane.

There is a stain.

Fortunately,
I've got off again.
And proportionately,
It's only slightly tame.

A Saab 93
That works for Uber.
I'm sitting in the back,
Sucking on Goobers.

A terrible sight for tutors.

Whilst travelling the aisle
in my Uber,
I was accosted by
this such loser.

There was no future
for the boy.
And there was no super glue
for his toy.

I believe his name was Roy.

There is always a driver
for those who are on strike.
And though I can fly higher
than a standard's pike.

I must possess
boots on the ground.
No matter where I go
There, ridesharing abounds.

Like a pitcher on the mound.

I am in shape,
though I cannot run.
This Uber Rideshare
is useful, if not fun.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2191962