Please help me, muse, to write this true account

Of how one plan to go to school turned out.

I leave my house to start my way to school,

My father drives; he knows this path is cruel.

Yet there’s no choice, we must take this cruel street,

And hope that there are no harsh foes to meet.

“Oh no,” my father says with great concern

“It seems impossible to make this turn.”

The cars inch forth and make some space to drive,

But in their wake, there come another five.

One man decides to stop and let us through,

“At last,” I say, and finally turn, we do.

The reason for this traffic is unveiled:

A garbage truck; it seems that it has failed.

The drivers try to pass the static truck,

But coming cars mean that, for now, we’re stuck.

The cars pass by and, slowly, we step forth

To fight the traffic and finally head north.

My father brandishes his turning lights.

He turns his steering wheel with all his might.

The next oncoming car to block our path

Lets off the gas; the truck would feel our wrath.

With pedal down and steering wheel in hand,

My father charges to get past the man.

He changes lanes to get out past the truck,

But when he’s on the left he sees he’s stuck.

The car in front backs up with utmost care,

While those behind repeat with great despair.

The cars all move together like a snake,

And we are riding slowly in its wake.

The snake creeps forward just enough to win

The fight against the mover of trash bins.