Diesel, an Irish poem


Diesel

The label on the rental car gas cap said 'diesel'
she realized too late.

Twenty-three liters of petrol
already filling the tank.

A frantic Google search.

Two charitable lads to help push the car to the auto shop.

A somber walk to the hotel.

Four hours behind schedule
and three-hundred-eighty euros gone.

A sigh of relief 
for the catastrophe that was caught in time.

By: Becka Coolong 

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