this dope ***
bright red yellow pink sun
in the rearview.
an energy, without doubt.
while she sings
"don't hurt yourself"
and i decide
i will try harder
not to,
and that i only want
the imaginary brand new
futuristic race car
if i can have it
with complete abandon -
sure in the knowledge
that it could be crumpled
and imperfect in minutes -
a loss a loss a loss.

i would only want it
if i could truly accept its destruction
the cryptic length of
enjoyment without worry.
then i could
race that machine
be that machine
love that m a c h i n e