The sky is cut in half
by a mid-day woollen cloud
and the sun, shiny brass,
goes in and then comes out.
Pink petals ski past
my vision, helmet bound,
cars, people, trees, grass,
I can't hear their sound.
On the road-made snake
the throttle buzzy sound
makes new memories fade
in a roar strong and proud
like the speech spoken
by the wind all around
I know my heart is broken
but the pain is not so loud.
The smell of fresh-cut grass
reminds me of her lawn
and the way she clung to me
on this curvy lake-side road.
Take power to the peak
don't hear your heart's moan
let the engine cover it
like sand by white sea-foam.
Leave behind as a snail
a trait of rubbery sorrow
give gas, grip the grey
and don't think about tomorrow
since all this worrying
is but a background noise
come on girl, hurry
spark, explosion, voice.
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