tires keep rolling,
creaky and slow like an elder.
quick stops—not quick enough to save anyone
just quick enough to try.
a parking lot of “trying our best.”
a sea of metal; blue black red
yellow? never yellow.
yellow isn’t cool, it’s happy and bright
but gold, oh gold,
gold is everything.
gold in the children’s teeth,
the grimiest of them
glimmering in the grey sky,
in the rainy sky,
dripping, hot, metallic.
it burns their skin
melting down to bone,
singing lonely hearts
that fills themselves with
yellow snap pics
pics of dicks
pics of chicks
picks to be saved for the apocalypse
they smile behind the
yellow barn in our
yellow flower state
to find their yellow car in
heaven. so let their
tires keep rolling.
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