A man in a white pickup truck

tries to run me down

in a covered parking lot.

Seeing me caught

between cement ceiling

and asphalt floor,

he rages around a row of cars

zigzagging blue rubber smoke,

and closing the distance,

aims the grill

at my heart.

When I jump aside

I see his eyes,

his aura glowing through the windshield.

He jerks the truck away

through the shadowy columns,

leaving me light headed

in the exhaust.

One day another spirit

will try to lock my image

in his hell bent gaze.

To claim mem

he must swerve left

one more inch.
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