RITA THE RUSHER / by Joseph Castorino

 

Rita rushes madly all the day long,

She’s petrified things will turn out all wrong;

Her two nervous eyes seem made of green rock,

That shift like the pendulum of a clock;

Keep up with the Joneses, she must, she must,

Or all of her dreams will turn to grey dust;

Her sad sour life is a merry-go-round,

And Fear chases her like a hungry hound;

Tragically, she lives at a breakneck pace,

With worrisome wrinkles on her blank face;

Rita’s afraid she just might go crazy,

The truth is that her future’s quite hazy;

She needs to run, run, run, and buy, buy, buy,

But she never stops to ask herself why.