By: Michele Walsky
Aghast, no space in sight!
“BBQ fair,” my carpool squealed in delight
“Cone,” I groaned, circling in plight
Diagonal, sideways, angled, no use
Every spot was taken, it was becoming obtuse
Forget it, I’d say if it wasn’t for class
Good gravy, so jammed, students parked on the grass!
“Hurry”, I prayed, following walkers afar
Instead, they tossed books and grabbed more from their car
Just as hope dipped, we spied a spot
Laughed the bike in its slot
“Motorcycles”, we cursed under our breath