4 December 2013

That automatic car wash would not get it clean,
Finger prints and slime remain easily seen.
I wanted to clean it all by myself,
Restore it’s shine or wreck my health.

I’m dying here, with four quarters in,
Why do I listen when my brain has a whim?
We’re both covered in suds, my car and I,
My body is screaming and I want to cry.

I’m soaking wet but wearing this fake RA smile.
I certainly won’t do this again for a while!
(actually ‘never EVER’  – but it didn’t rhyme)
Just so you know…  I did the best that I could.
We both look much worse, I kinda figured we would.

Note to readers:
Play ‘the car wash’ song in your brain when you read this one… it helps.