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TAXI AND RICKSHAW
The wheels of time spin a curious fate
In a world where no one wants to be late
With two wheels its simple, just buggy and brawn
But labor is tiring to dusk from the dawn
The wind at one's back, the breeze in one's hair
A slow rickshaw voyage from here until there
The distance is shorter, the journey is slow
But custom and culture are carried in tow
With four wheels it's different, the automotive class
It's wire and metal and machinery and glass
The drivers inside can steer as they would
With brawn that's supplied by the horses 'neath the hood
The conditioning of air does regulate the clime
For passengers who care that they're making good time
Any distance is possible, none too far to pass
With swiftness of taxi and plenty of gas
But is it really a matter of now or of yore
When one makes a choice between two wheels or four?
Poem "Taxi and Rickshaw" © 1998 Dorothy A. Birsic.
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