BONUS SONNET: In Which I Fret Over My Gas Guzzling Pal

Alongside Deep Blue in my heart is Jack,

Booktastic Buick Skylark, and the means

For my commute most of the year. He's black

With red inside and sleek, like most machines

About which poems are written. Yesternoon 

Upon the summit where the fog did spread

My Jack got thirsty. Though we'd be home soon

I'm told his type is best not run to red,

So (secret) Trading Post got it some trade.

But from the way my Jack's behaving now

I'm thinking that the gas was lower grade

Than is quite right. He's sluggish as a cow

At lower speeds, though he can still go fast.

We barely made it home tonight. Damnblast!