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My Truck

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What is in my car?
Technically, nothing is in my car,
I have been blessed with a truck,
And in this truck is a feeling,
A feeling that I can do anything,
Or go anywhere.
This feeling makes me believe
That I alone, with my truck,
Can conquer the world,
This feeling, however, is false.

I cannot go more than a few hundred miles
Before the gauge is on ‘E’
And all I hear is beep, beep, beep
And I am forced to pull out,
Of all things, my handy-dandy,
Black gas card.
Strike one.
I am incapable of paying
Thus, my father does.

I go another thousand miles
Before I hear a thunk.
And another thunk.
And another.
Until all I can hear is
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
I finally realize something is wrong
With my truck, truck, truck
Strike two for me.
Into the mechanic the truck goes,
And back to my dad the bill flows.

I see a spot of mud.
It’s mushy and ushy
And I chuckle with glee.
I can make it through that I decree.
I put the four-wheel drive on
And push the pedal to the floor.
Vrrroomm, Vrrooomm, Vrroomm.
The wheels won’t budge.
Finally, the last strike,
Strike three.
I have to call my dad to come get me.





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