All Tired Out


I'm all tired out,
Have got no tread.

Face the future,
With a bit of dread.

Started with a slight bulge.
Imperceptible to divulge.

Felt the vibration,
Deep inside.

An instability,
That couldn’t hide.

Like wheels were coming off,
Never to reach their goal.

Cast by the road.
Like a tired old sole.

Bloated, distorted, about to burst.
Agony that was at its worst.

Out of balance, out of line,
Relief--a blowout—bad, bad sign.

To go flat would be better,
Yes, to go flat would be fine.

A new tire’s in order,
But credit's at redline.

Broke and busted,
It’s about time.

Out of tolerance, out of skew.
Never leaving this heat for you.

Finally, new rubber all-around,
Headed out, pavement to pound.

Until, once again, she leaves me flat,
And I’m all tired out.

Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull

8/4/02

Rubber to the road ...