In the hushed halls of Harvard,
Where ivy muffles sound,
In the busy streets of Coolidge Corner,
With people all around.
Echoes now a tale
Full of hue and cry.
The adventure of a modern day:
The travails of the Lazari.
Travel in Boston they will
And travel they did try.
A seemingly simple quest
To find the West Roxbury Y.
In today’s techno world,
They made one call to notify
An Uber driver, fast and sure,
to take them to the Y.
Denise arrived as promised
And knew the way to go.
We’ll be there, she said so sweet,
In 20 minutes or so.
The time flew by,
Along with people, theaters and bars,
Until she announced their arrival
And pulled between two parked cars.
You have made good time, but
Are you sure this the West Roxbury Y?
While it looks nice, It does not look familiar.
Said the Lazari.
Yes, smiled Denise,
In her gentle style.
Fear not, good people,
Enjoy it for a while.
So they left the safety of the car
To venture into the late morning light
Only to find this was not the Y.
By then, Denise was out of sight.
Undismayed, they phoned again
And quickly Uber came.
They identified themselves
And the driver offered his name.
In no time, they were off
Happy to say goodbye
And eager to greet
The staff at the proper Y.
But Jose, whose accent created
A communication bar,
Stopped the car and said,
“You are in the wrong car.”
“What must we do?”
Asked the Lazari.
“We don’t know where we are,
Except this is not the Y.”
“Wait,” said Jose, locking the door,
“Just call for another car.”
So the Lazari complied:
Another Uber was not far.
Then Jose commanded.
“I will not leave you high and dry.
“Cancel that driver,
“I will take you to the Y.”
Then, he flashed his phone
And said with force amain:
“You cancelled Uber;
“I cannot take you again.”
So, they were deposited
On a stranger corner of town
By busy Washington Street intersection
With odd-acting folks all around.
They did not see an address
Or anywhere to stand,
As the rain started to dribble down
On this intrepid, two-person band.
They sought shelter from the storm
Standing in front of a grocery store
And with courage befitting Roland
Called for an Uber once more.
The signal said the rescuing car
Was just a block away.
It was must have been a very long block.
For the car never came that day.
The passing time meant nothing.
Nor the steady rain.
Standing forthright with aplomb.
They called for an Uber again.
In few moments,
A white car pulled alongside,
And whisked them from the dragon’s maw
For yet another long ride.
This time, after many more thrills
Amid traffic’s hue and cry
They were finally stopped by the curb
Outside the West Roxbury Y.
More than two hours had passed
Since starting this noble quest.
And the stories still reverberate
Amid the sights and sounds of Boston’s best.
Roxbury sounds like West Roxbury
Separating them is hard to try
For both have YMCA’s
But only one is right for the Lazari.
The days of Homer have long gone,
He will have to make another try.
For today’s saga belongs
To the intrepid Lazari.
Taking Uber is not for sissies.
Were Joyce still around.
He would have another model for Ulysses.
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