Trash
Through dusty lenses she gazes at an the welcomes instrument of her demise
Ripped and torn insides make it hard to sit comfortably for very long
As the recycler warms up, two sharp forks pierce her side
Scrapes, dents and a torn skirt torn a tell the story of racy nights on the back roads
Her rusted hood trembles under his sweltering breath
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
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