Ode To The Streets Of LA

O, potholed asphalt 'neath my wheels,
Rough in the best of times when dry
Winds howl and morons teem your way,
How much a week's rains doth destroy.

Water from heaven takes your stones
And erodes your oily binding,
Leaving you crack'd, warp'd, and broken,
Vengeful traps for my truck to trip.

Ev'ry mile a painful adventure,
Now I pick my way with care lest
Mine axle do snap asunder like
A stale churro left long outside.

O, potholed asphalt 'neath my wheels,
The weather knave doth say more rain
Shall fall hence. Could'st a favor
For me do? Stop falling apart.

'Tis a small thing I beg of you,
Fight the dictates of entropy
And crumble not into foul ruin.
Do this and I shall tread lightly.

Pray, but keep thyself in one piece,
Expose not pipes and wires below,
And I will pledge to drive well as
Many have not the fortitude.

O, potholed asphalt 'neath my wheels,
You are my true friend, have I told
You that anon? Just let me get
Where I need to go and not die.