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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