THE FAMILY CAR
Great Moloch of the highways, we adore you.
You get us where we're going in a trice.
And yet, like many a pagan god before you,
You claim each year a human sacrifice.
Cooler, some would like it; others, warmer.
Some pray for rain, and some for sunny blue.
To please them both, the latter and the former,
How sad to know there's nothing we can do.