Everyday Is A Triumph

Wipe the rain away, little finger. Cradle the engine to warm the nubs that hold on for dear life. Crack the visor to let the fog clear and dodge the throwback of water from the big trucks.

Shoot into the night driven by pistons

on highways that sparkle like skin glistening

with gasoline and rain stinging and kissing with dangerous vision-

Lane line dashes like bars in a prison

a liter displacing, howling and listening

like a pupil reasoning the chances of collision.


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