A poem written a while back when I was at New Mexico Tech in honor of one of my students who shall remain nameless (though there are internal clues that will let some figure out who it is). I ran into it on the web the other day and figured it needed to be moved back to my web pages somewhere.
So, its not to a gerbil exactly... (But it originally saw the light of day on the "nmt.gerbils" newsgroup.)
All errors in scansion, rhyme, language and whatever are either intentional or maybe not. Have fun figuring out which are which.
A student once, who came to work, to clean my yard (for cheap!)
A techy type, computer geek, a dos fan even more
A freshman, superficial - but who (I think) will keep
Collecting trash, or building games (and sometimes dumping core)
T'was time to leave, he went to start his truck up in the drive
But all it did was buzz and click and little red lights shone
And then again and then again the truck was not alive
he cursed and kicked the tires twice and then I hear him groan
"The trouble is," he tried to start, "the trouble is, you see"
"That I just got the darned thing fixed and now I must again"
"My money's down, the banks not glad, and no one works for free"
I sympathised, and said good things, and tried as best I can.
He popped the hood and glared in vain at all the stuff inside.
He swore a bit then tried again, the motor didnt budge
It didnt make the slightest sound as one again he tried
And since this is a public place I'll write he then said "Fudge"
He tried the fusebox (with a light) but all the things seemed sound
Then once again he tried the thing, again he tried in vain
We've all done this, I'm sure, I know. That's why we've fists, to pound
Our cars rule us, cruel masters they and we their vassals chained
Grumbling still, he took a ride, in my old ugly truck
And promised to come back again with tools next time - real soon
It took a day or two (or three?) - "He'll come today, with luck"
Until that day three cars stood there, silver, rust and blue.
And odd drive then, a big old truck with rust and dust and dents
A tonka truck, a damp rampage, so low it seems to scrape
A silly wagon thing nearby with dust and rust and bents
And none of them, it seems to be, in really happy shape.
That day when he, with jumper wires, came by to get his toy
We tried it once and still no sound and tried it twice but no
It started not, so wires we strung, from big old truck to toy
But oops! In setting up the lines, the door was shut and so...
He had to ope the other door (the latch was broke, you see)
And crawl in o'er the other seat to reach the drivers spot
And as in doing so he found the lever poked at he
He gave a groan, a sigh, a moan, we'll say he said "Oh rot!"
"I should have known, I should have seen, oh silly stupid boob"
I look askance, he seemed so mad, so oddly out of jive
I wondered then if his creaky mind needed jiffy lube
"Oh shit, Oh damn," he cried and then "the fucker's still in drive!"
A lesson here I guess we'll find, tho not sure what it is
Perhaps its that machines are mad and take their toll in pain
Or maybe just we're not so smart as smart we think we is
But dont forget, if it wont start, try in "Park" again.
(Phew, I don't think I'll do that again.)