Fountain and Bent Finger, by C
As i fed the metre,
i could not help but admire the raptor inspired bobble-head on her dash.
Sporting red hair and pupils as a moon of mars
she shared her shade,
For which i paid fifty cents on the dollar.
My stomach was feeling like a redneck rabbitt pull,
But
If i owned a single speed with spoke cards, it would be burnished silver with Naval Aviator decals front and aft.
Right now, though, i am just a Captive Evangecyclist carrying a snow shovel.















Comments
eye see...
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its not too late to become what you were meant to be
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its not too late to become what you were meant to be
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