For walkers, this week was bad luck While crossing the street, two were struck Sure, fate is capricious But why not delicious? Heck yes, I’d get hit by this truck

It sure seems that Metro’s bemoaning The change that had riders all groaning With kiosks outmoded Make fares auto-loaded Not yet, though, ’cause Catoe’s postponing

I’m sad to see Cephas depart For with him, that man takes my heart He’s clearly an ass But lovably crass In my book, bad taste is an art

When casting your vote in the booth Just think of Graham’s bowtie (so couth!) Whatever you ponder Don’t let your mind wander To thoughts of cabs, bribes, or that youth

As poet, I feel obligated To highlight things classic (or dated?) And yet, here’s my screed: Screw biking in tweed That whole thing seemed way overrated…