I’ve been coasting down Granite State back roads
Twisting and winding
Intertwining with my thoughts
There’s an awful lot of road ****
Carnage in the streets
Bloodied and beaten to death
Memories so keen yet smeared
I breathe in
Cigar smoke slithers down my throat
I cough up a dead squirrel
It reeks of nostalgia
I pick up the corpse and toss is out of the car
Into a fire dancing across the road and up into the trees
I breathe in once more
Crisp, cool
But it burns
Fall always comes on so strong