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Jun 2018
(huff fin Bach seat driver)...

Aye kin recall when both offspring
     (yay high) as a small child
and now ma deux daughters
     (fledgling young chicks
     though they be),
     flew the coop, sans answering,
     when call of the wild dialed

their biological cell
     phone rang off the hook
as post pubescence metamorphosis
     (into young adulthood),
     they gingerly did brook
arbiters as consensual nymphs
     baited verboten fruit yum zook

thus, freed as private on call designated
     papa chauffeur de jure
yet, a nostalgic feelings
     surface within mine being,

     when many occasions
    witnessed this night owl
     barely awake
     stumbling out the front door

nonetheless diligently
     donning "taxi driver" hat
now, a virtual dust collector
     replaced by near identical head gear

     capped upon me noggin monogramed
     with pet name "hubby" and/or "matt"
thy (well worn) first name,
     despite futile protestation
     simmering into *** for tat

case in point encompasses this poetic blip
     instinctually navigating
     (southeast as the counting crows fly)
     (with ma own embedded

     global positioning satellite micro chip)
from Schwenksville habitue
     to center city Philadelphia, Pennsylvania where,
     nary agitation viz calm, cool,

     and collected demeanor did e-clip,
nor (as prevailed during anxiety fraught youth),
     emotional state would hove done a flip
with clenched steering wheel,

     whar white bar knuckles would grip
but nowadays (courtesy
     of targeted prescription medications)
mien psychological state quite mellow,

     and approaches ferrying human cargo
     via 2009 Hyundai Sonata
     as one shaded eyes, cool cat,
     and (so like...mon) really hip

telling spouse to pipe down and zip her lip
lest she wants the aggravating maneuver
     thru plethora of pedestrians
     (nope, yours truly
     DID NOT run anybody over)!

This mister plied his way
     to 1601 Market Street with nary a hitch
though returning back northwest to our abode
     entailed a bit hove va glitch

when orientation
     found me way off beaten bath,
     (a quarter tank of gas) circling
     the Philadelphia Airport with

     "Welcome to Tinicum Township),"
     some natural wildlife niche,
and of course did NO confession getting lost,
then breathing sigh of relief

     espying urban skyline,
     where Ben Franklin statue
     forever frieze a stitch
in time, and even rumbling
     deafening noise elicits nada flinch!
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
195
 
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