The Car In The Flood Poem by Rodolfo Martin Vitangcol

ONE DAY WHILE I WAS DRIVING HOME FROM WORK,
I was not aware a downpour there lurked.
Nearing my home, it came like a madman;
in minutes, roads were all water, no land.

WELL, WHERE I WAS, THE WATER'S STILL SHALLOW;
but before me, a stretch few cars dared go.
It's waist-deep, some hundred meters in length;
some did dare but their engines failed the strength.

I DID ASK MYSELF, "SHOULD I DARE IT, TOO? "
Indeed, there's no other route to turn to.
If I want to go home, take chance I must;
water is swelling up, I must think fast!

THE TRUTH IS—THERE WAS NO OTHER OPTION;
cars behind were honking me to drive on.
Happen what might, I then started to move.
Can my car make it? It's now here to prove!

I WAS SO TENSE AS MY CAR PLODDED THROUGH:
"Take it easy, boy, and we'll make it through."
But just five meters to the shallow end,
the engine gave up, what a sorry end!

NO PROBLEM, THOUGH, SOME BOYS WERE THERE TO HELP;
they're there exactly for one like myself.
The more cars get stalled, the more they're happy;
they offer assist for sum of money.

WELL, FIVE BOYS CAME TO ME FOR YOU-KNOW-WHAT:
they pushed the car out in five seconds flat.
Then, their extended hands were all about;
meaning, take out your wallet, pay them out.

OPENING MY WALLET, THERE WERE TWO BILLS:
a twenty and a hundred peso bills.
I thought, "Twenty's fair for five-second work,
paying a hundred would seem like a joke."

THEY RECOILED WHEN I HANDED IT TO THEM,
saying it's too small for the five of them.
I pretended that it's all that I had,
stood by it however they bargained hard.

ACCEPTING THEY COULD NOT REALLY GET MORE,
they quietly talked to sort out their sore.
And then, as if they're one brothers in blood,
they shouted, "Push the car back to the flood! "

Amen!

Copyright © 2018
Rodolfo Martin Vitangcol
All Rights Reserved