411’s a Joke

Four one one’s a joke in my town.
It offer’s me no ways to run around.
Teaches me not to swim, fly, or race on ground.
If it’s good, I’ll be tied, and bound.

Four one one is a miserable mess.
There’s better ways to get info. Confess
that you search elsewhere to find an address
or the locale of the latest protest.

If you wanted to find information,
would you call up your local four one one?
Hell no! Nor would anyone
since it’s a grandma-fammin’ joke, there, son!

I’ll never use that telephony service!
If I ever felt the need: Lord preserve us!
I’d be in desperate straits, so be nervous
about the fate of what we learned and the disservice

since I’m suggesting that what you’ll hear is useless
because the operators they have are toothless.
And if you think that my critique right here is ruthless
then you have never heard their answers – such a nuisance.

I’ll repeat: Four one one is a joke, y’all.
You will never be wiser after a call.
Want information? You’re heading for a fall, y’all.
You might as well throw you phone against a wall.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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