Buttered buns are banes to hearts <br />in cars that, even hybridized, <br />are worse than horses and their carts, <br />though leather customized. <br />On silken seats the drivers clog <br />the traffic like cholesterol, <br />heating greenhouses with smog, <br />while signaling with buns the toll <br />their bodies pay, unexercised, <br />in Fords, Toyotas, Chryslers, Audis, <br />on superhighways supersized, <br />addicted to the oil of Saudis. <br /> <br />Now while we’re clearly all intent <br />on driving on the buns we’ve buttered, <br />destroying our environment, <br />we rout the routes that we have cluttered, <br />producing dioxide of carbon <br />that poisons us like gas produced <br />to kill the Jews by I. G. Farben, <br />because by sexy cars we are seduced <br />without intending to cause harm, <br />yet threatening to leave bereft <br />a planet that no car alarm <br />is sounding now to warn of theft. <br /> <br />2/1/06<br /><br />gershon hepner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/buttered-buns/
