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…

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