The mechanism failed halfway up the hill, Neither accomplishing nor yielding: An exercise in sheer exertion Of pointless will imploding in Its own closed system of grunt and grind. The friction of the system ground The movement to a huffing halt, With dirt and grass coating the wheels That pushed in all directions but The wisest one of downwards. Hesitant, the hands and feet That drove and damned the wheels’ slow slog Paused about their business and Wiped the sweat on nearby thighs And looked about through squinting eyes, The sun too bright to give them light, The day too flat for motion, The slope too steep for up and their Legs locked into staying still, To keep from going backwards. “We’ve got no choice,” the voices said. “We’ll have to just stick it out up here.” So legs retained their weakening lock And stubborn arms tried to uphold The law of diminishing returns.