Life is the doublewide dirt track
atop which monster trucks travel.
We, we are but furry animals,
or insect life immaterial . . .
traction to Bridgestone rubber.
Every exoskeletal crust is crushed,
every chitinous chin held high
pushed down and down
to lay with they of warmer blood.
No help to slink in self-effacing
silence,
all will know the roar and wheel
when the shadow oertakes,
when their end is the same.
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