Caveat: Poem #1604 “Ode to Hole Pot”

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Most potholes could not be compared to you:
the greatest obstacle I had yet seen.
So stealthily did you lie there, it's true,
awaiting my car's tires - you were quite mean.
The way to deal with creatures of your sort
involves a dodging kind of driving skill.
In fact it can resemble healthy sport,
but doubts and worries lurk beyond each hill.
Perhaps I sped along a bit too fast.
It seems I could have slowed down just a bit.
The luck I'd had in swerving could not last.
My god, that thing looked like a giant pit!
But in the end I simply hit the brake.
Behold, a pothole like unto a lake.

– a sonnet in iambic pentameter.
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