Shudder
the wheel is squealing, grinding, and peeling
rubber off the tire in a wheelie some real heat
some friction slipping losing your grip and
your sense of conviction censor conniptions
but you can't hold this down eternal
fit on the paper then center re-word those
free bird poems, odes, and flows
we birth woes, and broken bones
deter foes from our pleasure and treasure
paradoxes to measure its measure
whether this weather gets better or never
we can shut all the shutters and shudder together
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