For he, the only to ask
The wind still bites on these
Winter's end nights
but I pedal my machine
heavy 'gainst the blow
and swerve something keen
mind set only on road
so close it could kill me
remembering not my pumping
knees or blocks to go.
The Cayenne GTS
hot pepper burns wreckless
thru stop signs
and I let the dizziness
of road lead me home
on a stream of numbing speed.
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