Fifty-Five

Sam and I once shared a vessel;
We’re both older, now, and stress’ll
Douse your light where once the limit
On the sign would only dim it.
I’ve survived the kid who sped
To every place the freeway led,
And these days if I’m running late
I figure that they’ll either wait
Until I get there, or they won’t;
Where some might opt to speed, I don’t.
Mr. Hagar wrote his song
When driving 56 was wrong
But 65’s the limit now,
And those 10 mph allow
A chronic by-tooth-skin arriver
Such as me to be a driver
Ponch and John would just ignore…
But only sloths drive 64!

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About Michael

Silliness is good
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