I am a private person <br />when it comes to cars. <br />I pick her up through liberation <br />from the merchant crook <br />and we are married <br />on the journey home. <br /> <br />And, thus it follows that <br />no other mortal gets to, <br />(and this includes all kings) <br />put hands upon her steering, <br />'cause she is mine, alone. <br /> <br />Though on that day it happened <br />that I typed a poem on P/H, <br />the Gallic Gremlin came and, <br />like a flash, blink of 'des yeux' <br />it ate each word, yes, a cochon. <br /> <br />And on the way, armed with a pen <br />and writing paper, she was asked <br />to drive as words came tumbling, <br />and needed to be written, once again.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-madness-of-trying-to-be-a-poet/
