by the rearview
i wonder
if this is the last
time isle see you
or if you blood roses
grown stones throws
away from the wheel
given lives different than
a hand out to the road
to feel the rumble cycles through movement
will soon come in cotton candy
puffs when the camera lens makes foggy
cause is poignance
bitterness moves upstairs
i can't fit the fact
in the trunk
that i want them to return
run back to shotgun
and tell me
floor it
into the sun
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