Spewing forth its noxious air,
this metal beast is always there.
Rattling.
A slave to the road beneath its feet,
it lumbers along the busy street.
Rattling.
It dumbly travels its predestined course,
a printed schedule its driving force.
Rattling.
Dawn to dusk it labors through,
always willing to carry me or you.
Rattling.
written by Ben Brick
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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