Yard Sale of Thoughts

A Clear Runaway

Reckless driving,
in your face.

All gas, no brakes.
Guardrail breaks.

Careening through unknown terrain.
No tickets, our airbags fake.

Freeway pass, high stakes.
All gas, no brakes.

The road can’t contain
the tanks.

We’re all in the passenger seat
gripping the grab handle,
tryna brace.

All gas, no brakes.
Reckless leadership,
the heat is building up,
a fast fade.

If you’re nearby, steer clear.
Steer away.