Waiting at the RMV

Sitting on a wooden bench,

I watch prime-time TV,

except that this degraded wretch

does not try to please.

There is no humorous slop

to pass my time away

all I watch is advert crap

and pray to God for days away.

This waiting in this waiting-room

is not what I'd call fun

the plain white walls and wooden trim

would weary anyone.

I wait for what? You clearly ask,

for that is what I say you do;

I wait so that my friends can bask

in glory of the car I drew

and draw, like horses pull a covered wagon

except instead of cloth-draped pine

I've a metal coated engine

which doth sputter, cough and whine