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Pooetry

A Sick Burn Out

Speeding down the road in nothing but my jocks.
While I build up my collection of little brown rocks.

I put the pedal to the metal and increase the brute force.
Out from my exhaust blasts the power of a thousand horse.

I adjust my speeding goggles before it’s too late.
Immediately before they fog up with grimy brown paste.

Shifting gears and leaning from cheek to cheek.
My nostrils flare as they inhale the heinous reek.

I spy something in my path as I approach at high speed.
It’s a small wild animal, depositing it’s daily deed.

Swerving, I lose control and unload a lil rear trout.
Only evidence left on the road is my sick burn out.

Pure Pooetry

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