Of Johnson bold, whose truth does not deceive,
A house now tilted right, edges they cleave,
Like goat with stubborn will, shifts not nor strays,
Yet majority's balance in danger sways.

In young maiden's bower, the crop tops bloom,
Faster than full shirts, they claim space in room,
Like rabbit swift, they dart past all control,
Yet questions rise: 'Is the wearer too droll?'

Toyota, like a slow and steady snail,
Bet on the quick tech hare, to no avail,
A creature young may not mesh with one old,
Thus did their fortune fast start to unroll.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur