“Your driver’s license,” he asked of me
Not liking the way I’d been driving
I guess I was speeding, just a bit
To avoid a late arriving
“Good sir, I beg your mercy”
“For I have an engagement pressing”
“And if you’d let me scurry on”
“It would be a major blessing”
But the officer wrote a big ticket
Then bid me au revoir
Alas, poetic license
Doesn’t get you very far
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