June 02, 2010

Robert Frost, slightly updated

Stopping by the Gulf on an Oily Evening

Whose gulf this is, I have no clue,
Does it belong to me and you?
Well, you won't mind me stopping here,
To watch our gulf fill up with goo.

My SUV must think it queer,
To stop without a BP near,
Between a dying duck and drake,
The shittiest evening of the year.

My Navigator gives a shake
To ask if there is some mistake;
The only other sound's the seep
Of all that oil we had to take.

The gulf was lovely, dark and deep
Till we drilled oil wells on the cheap
And left this place without a peep,
And all the dolphins went to sleep.

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