Saturday, July 25, 2009

flashing red ahead: incurable

























The radio seems to be picking up something strange--
I'm coming down with the flu,
But you don't have your seatbelt buckled

The rain makes for a slick road

Do you recognize the dead?

There's a forgotten thought in my aching head
The police are waving, and the victim's dog is escaping
No more cartoons--I promise

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