In 2014’s Pothole Olympics,
Buicks did stem christies,
On pitted pavement
And steered between lanes
Of rippled road abs.
One wheel in front,
Then one in back
Bounced in and out of dark crevasses
With the concuss of a thousand bolts.
Michelins, the smoothers of small bumps,
Were overmatched by massive plows,
That scattered chunks of asphalt,
As winter opened wide its mouth
In a sneer of colossal cavities and missing teeth,
Unfilled til after axles broke.