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CRUSHED IN A CAB
On the way home from a good Prince Albert meeting,
A happenstance came that made for unusual seating,
The transmission went bust in a most convenient spot,
To get into gear and move the car just would not.
The tow truck man looked at us four rather older folk
And thought all of us in his small cab quite a joke.
Arms and tops of bodies seemed to fir quite well,
It was bums, legs and feet soon quiet dead fell,
Jammed in tighter than sardines in a long thin can,
Packed knees, squashed toes, get home quick the plan,
The old tow truck careened along at a great pace,
The four of us lost all resemblance of beauty and grace.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson August 29, 2002