Jolokia Simulair

Jolokia Simulair

Electric charged
Processed water
Ran through rubber
Pumps and plumbing
Now seeps from vents.

White knuckle on a wheel,
As if gripping tighter
And tensing on pedals
Would make it easier
To see lanes in the road.

5,280 feet.
80 miles per hour.
422,400 feet.
3,600 seconds.
118 feet per second,

39 in a blink.

Gold grains in the wind,
Less than dust,
Blinking away in lanes
Hundreds of feet
At a time.

Beside, kicking up mist
To the windshield,
Raging metal bulls
Surround and charge
In a blinding stampede.

Chlorine in the pipelines,
Quaking relative to
Parallax rocket jet frames,
Tilted relative to angle a
Sunroof open to storming.

Cloudburn pierces
Into the shield
With tire steam
From outburst bulls
And their super hot rings.

Spiced cuts of aged meat
From butchers glazed
With ghost pepper salt
Drizzling freakishly now
From an awestruck mouth,

Clutching steaks and bones
Torn from hasty incisions,
Spiced with gold and
Roasted to raw perfection,
Driving a puzzle shaped excision.

Horns adorn the prize,
Playing in the blood
In the fast lane
Over rapid river underpasses
On a long freeway.

Listening to rain spew
And the faint beat of a drum
With the uptick of RPM
On a bull’s sighing sprint
Down the shellacked wilderness.

39 feet per second blinked,

Gold dust dunes kicked up
In wake of rushing aurochs
And their blood as it spills
From the wounds
Driven through typhoons

Concerned with slipping
On the drift or twist,
Afraid of falling down
And tumbling off
Of highways and bridges.

But the beast yet runs
Up in bends of hoarfrost
Thaw on the road,
Heating up with bleach
Hotfoot of the bulls.

Steam wrought warmth
By hooves as they take form
As pistons of velocity,
After torn to leak and bleed
And spray flash vapor seeds.

Ghost pepper spice of a meat
Vehicle melts permafrost and
Runs between gold dust lanes
Over new jungles and careens
After others in blinding steam.

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