POETRY FOR A TUESDAY COMMUTE

I arrive to work every day at the same time (or within mere minutes) every day.  I am one of the first (if not THE first) to arrive at work simply because I like to get a parking space, I prefer to beat traffic, and I like my quiet time before the breakneck pace of the day starts.

For the last week, a man has been arriving at about the same time.  I have never seen this man before, and he circles in from my parking lot all the way to the other lot, so I assume he is possibly a high school teacher or employee.  Either way, it surprises me that since we seem to be on a similar schedule, I have never seen him before.

What I notice is that he is a really big man.  I don't mean overweight, I just mean he seems tall and full-bodied.  Wait, that sounds like he's wine or something.  He just seems to take up a lot of space.  No, that's not quite it either.

Okay, truth is he drives a teeny weeny itty bitty car, and he clearly cannot move his arms to steer.  His shoulder is up against the itsy bitsy window, and it appears that he takes up both front seats.  Again, he isn't a big guy, necessarily, but his car ... it's kind of like watching someone drive a clown car.

So, I made up a poem for the man, who is probably very friendly but cannot possibly lift his arm to wave as he is completely stuffed into the compact mini-car he drives.  Here it is; here's my poem.  Don't be offended, Man in Miniature Car.  I'm seriously certain you're probably an enjoyable guy despite your squishy commute.

Big giant man
In your teeny tiny car,
You must be uncomfy
Contorted as you are:
Folded like a sausage
In that teeny tiny can,
A car that's far too compact
For such a giant man.

(You're welcome.)