Crossover smoke

A man in a crossover

smokes

searches

for meaning

outside the car window

what gives when

a tractor skips a heartbeat

people torn down, remade

in the fashion

of secondhand machines

the rising barricades

stop anyway, the inflow

of wisdom or truth

all is sparse

in the land of stray dogs

there is chaos

herein

but who’s going to

call it out

who’s going to say

On this night, we are all insane folks!

and who’s gonna stay

to look after the strays

the indicator blinks

but no one turns

the man in the crossover

drives on

and we are all

clutching our fathers’ waists

hoping not to

fall off the motorcycle seat.

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