On dodging bullets


A glance at the rear-view mirror,

And you’re in the hands of a driver who’s chewing grass and,
Kneading her weave.

You are left of a drunk who’s just exclaimed,
“…we’re moving too fast!”

Survival can be glamorous.

You imagine you see,
That you can dodge bullets,
And retain bouncy hair,

That keratin replenishers really do work but,
The drunk man was right,

Too fast is too fast.

You survived,
The others did not.

-short evocative poetry-

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