Poetry Friday: The Word is GAS

Today’s Poetry Friday Word is GAS.

Hehhehheh.

Gas is just funny, innit? We fill up with gas, we pass gas, we think it’s a gas, we turn on the gas…a stinky invisible thing our bodies produce, a liquid that keeps our frantic society franticly moving, a description of how we finished the foot race.

Feel free to release an SBD (silent but deadly) cloud of GAS in your blog post today, in whatever form makes you grin and say “ahhhhh”…story, poem, missive on the weather, country music/R&B crossover song, haiku, Play-Doh statue…. Me? I have a chart…yes, I’m a dork…and something I jotted down on a magazine blow-in card after a 5K.

Have a good weekend, y’all!


Michigan’s 6-year History of Gas Prices (yes, I’m weeping):




Revolution

Ignited I
Spit oil I
Sweat gasoline
Pistons push gears
Grind chk chk
Chkchkchk
Pounding tar blades
Spin catch
Spark catch
Air

Shaking BANG
Rhythm BANG
Pump
Pumping
Hard ground BANG
No match for my rubber

Machine flies
because it must
Machine spins
Because it knows
No other speed
But run
But run
But run