Your truck carries a truck
You've got one parked inside my nose
Tangy tar and carburetor
Not the morning I chose
You've got one parked inside my nose
Tangy tar and carburetor
Not the morning I chose
These flat roofs
And flat roof punch for good luck
With a hit of Chateauneuf
Makes all this carbon taste better
All the views are forsaken
Hidden in tuck and dark clothes
Aloof and filled with celebration
Living glamorously in an anonymous letter
But your truck, your truck
It got off at the last station
Never realizing itself fully
In hint or iteration
Proof that no good can come of this
Some solitude that built itself a chair
Squealing in a crooked corner
Grease long ago giving way to salty air
--
4.2.10
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