I should ride up front, says Paper,
for the driver can draw a map on me
and never get lost.
I should ride up front, says Rock,
for if another car cuts us off, the driver can
throw me at it through an open window.
No one uses paper maps anymore, says Scissors.
Ever hear of GPS, Google Maps, Mapquest?
And Rock, wouldn’t you rather stay in place, a little mountain?
Scissors cuts paper.
Paper smothers rock.
Rock breaks scissors.
Scissors, smashed, says There has to be a better way to decide.
Paper, shredded into confetti, says Decide with a shotgun.
Rock, covered by a confetti avalanche, says And everyone calls me the dumb one.
I don’t want anyone sitting on me,
the Front Seat says,
and starts the car, and drives away.