A short poem about my 1992 Ford Crown Victoria.
My Vic is sick, but not overly so
It just doesn’t look great on the go.
The gas tank cover is hanging free
and the winter weather has left some dirty debris.
Because the bumper was covered with glue,
I had to put up some stickers of teams I should boo.
Inside the car isn’t much better.
The windshield flaps are torn and fettered.
Unfortunately, the floors are full of my junk.
I really need to clean up this gunk.
For now I’ll use my Vic –it’s free
But what I really want is a Lamorghini.