The Gaurd Beneath My Car
Why oh why is there a guard beneath my car?
The snow came down hard, weather like never before.
My car hugged the road, sports tires left others behind.
I climbed hills, others were left still.
I drove out by Leixlip, down a windy road.
Where I met a taxi, covered in snow.
I would not budge, he didn't own the road.
He came closer, his snow-covered automobile,
said Garda on the side so I swerved to let him by.
Sorry officer, my car slid deep, into the ditch,
my wheels had no grip, to stop my slip.
This farmer or rugby playing guard,
nodded then tackled the car, shoulder to bumper
I reversed out my snowmobile,
delighted my car, released with such ease
I didn't want to explain, a cop beneath my wheels.
22nd of November 2013 en Madrid
Of course, I took a picture of my little off-roader.
My two-toned, snow-covered dream machine.