This afternoon we drove down to the pub
And saw that we had already arrived,
For parked fortuitously near to a shrub,
The model, make, and color that we drive.

And since the street had no more empty space,
With our past selves we felt a little vexed
That by their lingering we were displaced,
Who knew what inconvenience they’d cause next?

But then, upon a cross street I espied
A space much closer to our destination.
We slid into it with a dash of of pride
That really didn’t bear examination.

We had to laugh at our desire to thwart
Our own extrapolated selves for sport.