Carl Prothman | PNW Photographer, Skier
9 months
A Sonnet to the Flunkle
Oh, flunkle! Cursed word of woe and ire,
Born of the moments most dismayingly dire.
In queues, in traffic, or in daily grind,
A flunkle's where our vexed souls we find.
A driver cuts ahead, a flunkle clear,
His antics drawing forth an angry tear.
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