red dust and the disintegrating woman.
outbound, freefall, three AM.
black dust woman, copper bracelets with
fiber scars, sang sweet. song of battle,
rush of adrenaline. just a bit more, whisper
though the wire, this
mechanical love and the fire to catch.

well, I'm here and gone again, she said,
the wings of times gone past, the
turning wheel. everything new is old
again, and I saw you - the window -
at three AM.

live free or die, or lost and found, run
westbound, northbound, 95, engine howling
long as she can make it. just a bit more
dust in the making, just set it on fire,
watch it burn.

and I said: I can be free, or as free as
I can make it. metal sweet and fire at will.
gimme the dust and the copper and fiber, gimme
salvation and her face - civilization, a
bright and feral thing.
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