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"The Race"
Walking back to my car,
I spied him on the street,
A traffic warden wearing black,
With huge enormous feet.
I was parked precariously,
So I quickened up my pace,
But he could tell what I was up to,
I saw it in his face.
I reached a speeding gallop,
He started running too,
A frantic race to reach my car,
Our faces turning blue.
He beat me by five seconds,
And started writing out a ticket,
Ignoring me as I was swearing,
And telling him where to stick it.
And he walked away so happily,
Giving me a little smirk,
A prime example of a man,
Who loved his f*****g work.
©2003 LCB
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