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11 December 2009
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Happy, Our Drive

By Sam F


Fragments of shattered glass
Refract a red and blue veil over a crumpled chasse.
A crimson tear streams down the black road,
Causing the cats eyes to shut.
The sky is back in black,
The stars refuse to come out
And the moon is peeping out from behind clouds
And all this to the sound of the Road Accident Orchestra.
Screams, shouts accompanied by acoustic sirens.
A man looks at his watch,
And notes the time; '11.17', he sighs.
An intoxicating stench of loss and under achievement, induce vomiting.
The broken jukebox in the corner is stuck on the same track.
'Is daddy OK'?
The driver is in desperate need of two more pints,
But there's no more blood left.


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