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John F McCullagh
Poems
Dec 2017
The Terrible driver
He stops and starts, he drives too slow,
He turns hesitantly.
He struggles reading street signs-
That much is plain to see.
He lingers at each corner
And others canβt get by.
He honks his horn incessantly.
No one can tell me why.
The old should face a driving test
to stay behind the wheel.
Forcing him to take a cab-
That idea has appeal.
I want to give the finger to this annoying S.O.B.
but when I pull up next to him
He looks a lot like me
Written by
John F McCullagh
63/M/NY
(63/M/NY)
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