The seismic pothole on Main Street has grown
and has started to gnaw on the sidewalk.
Most motorists and all pedestrians
avoid the byway, preferring the park-
way instead, so we ask that you refill
the road starting with the hole. We had planned
to send thousands of pleasant letters, all
requesting this favor with eloquence.
Sadly—Harold has to take the children
to karate; Karen has Pilates
until seven, and the rest have chosen
not to care, so we elected a mouthpiece,
this young writer named Michael Ollinger,
to deliver these capital concerns.