Rose With No Petals Comments

I saw the past destroy itself and rise again as the future, guttural, drowning, in smog and regulation, the pastoral trees finally breathing free
while the cars smoke on tobacco-black streets, past the lights searching to bring down anyone going too fast or thinking too slow.
In the middle drive those who don’t deserve a license, running at the right speed, predictable as the air we breathe,
arriving on time, a dead heartbeat or chime while those without cars are exhausted by the fumes of hearses driving by.
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