Pit Stop

I refuel my limbs 
in the emptiness of 
an existential cul-de-sac 
like written lyrics 
of a platinum record 
that need a voice to sing 
to cry 
taking that ride 
the highway is my guide 
windswept jackrabbit 
on time borrowed time 
I foot the pedal 
stay in my lane
wait for a pit stop 
to come my way again .

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