I, too, dislike it.
However,
I was trying to not think
When out of the gaping wound
Of the car-detailing garage (smells like metallic ***)
Came a Nissan GT-R fitted with an oversized spoiler.
Backing out sounded like clearing the throat of God.
A gold snake zizzed around the license plate.
Sunburnt hubcaps, fancy undercarriage installation
Casting a pool of violent light on the pocket pavement
Of gum blots. Was this that filled me with desire?
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