88 Mello Yello: A Re-tale

I drove a fast race. I turned a cheap trick. I was sunglasses and broad shoulders. I was shaving cream and Dorito dust. I drank cheap bourbon in garage exhaust. I spun tires against gravel for eternity.

You were no kind of call girl. You were the doctor with a wood leg. You liked the speed of the race clock.

We blazed fire horizons in heat waves. We tequila chased together against the tarmac. We were thunder and clouds, a rumbling blur, a disaster too fast to forget.


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