Trollies in Kremenchuk
I curse the bloody things sometimes.
Last Monday at the Shopping Mall
I grabbed one but a wheel was jammed.
The next one veered off to the right
And the last trolley in the row
Simply collapsed before my eyes.
I went outside to the car park
And spotted a shiny model
In the far corner. Just the job,
I thought, and marched off to claim it.
Light and mobile, it was perfect.
At that moment, the missile fell;
Blown in the air, I was all right.
Unlike many, including some
Who made do with the duff trollies.
Perhaps I am too demanding.
They say life is a lottery,
But one man is off his trolley.