 Into the violent wagon We all are loaded And go a-trundling With radio blaring At speed immoderate; Passed the cell phone towers With their spikes a-bristling, Torture device For an age humane; To cross a river, Up an absurdly arcing bridge, Metal coach rumbling Above the squirrels’ nests; Asked the computer Oracle, ‘Are we lost?’ The motor killed, The doors fly open, Arms are flung around necks - What a pretty way To visit distant kin.
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