We ain't sure, I mean AI ain't fully a wayback machine,
because there's these
pay walls, and the gates are guarded by **** site viruses
hook you if you look, curiously enough,
any thing the kinks could find
kept getting harder to find,
you can get it, on rt 66,
or what remains of the road, in minds of those who
hitched it, both directions,
drove in a big golden semi, during CRST apprenticeship
failure for inattention to mirrors,
"he's lost his mirrors", I over heard.
Thus I was fired because the most important part
of freight haulin'
is slow backing into spaces precisely one trailer wide,
bump bump bump. Each bump has a story,
each has a moral as any story self-evident does.
- story looks at you, in those now found mirrors
- a haul of mirrors, shards of some
- now play fractal source of confusion as to
were we thinking?
Mirrors and echoes, put me in time travel awe-right, we forgot the badshit...
my alzheimered sister's birthday phone call was a door to adventure.