Petrifying petrosexuals
on the freeways guzzle gas,
mocking all the metrosexuals
who won’t ever let them pass.
Public transport is no option,
considered by the petros retro,
and it’s too late for adoption
of a subway or a metro
for the petrosexuals weaving
into lanes that are obstructed,
like the metrosexuals grieving
for the lives thus interrupted.
Ancient Greeks who loved their polis
by such problems were not harassed,
but the glut of petrodollars
causes us to be embarrassed
by the petrosexuals drivers
who provide a poor solution
for a world whose last survivors
won't be gassed without pollution.
5/1/0/06
Another superb write; it's an interesting dilemma of who is worst - the automakers that continue to churn out theses metallic beasts or the people who buy them. It's disappointing that we can place a man on the moon, but can't create a solar-powered car that stores enough energy to make this kind of vehicle a real & viable solution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Shalom, Gershon! It was a real pleasure to read this poem. The write is witty as usual but funnier than many late night comics and with a lot more social punch as well: a fine, amusing and provocative poem! Best, Hugh