The Race

September 1, 2007
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A car made to sit 7 tightly fits 8, Plus a large ice chest. A long drive with hours of Laziness, laughter, leisure. Car blaring music and small conversations. Swerving roads, dips, speeding. Finally we make it, time to return. Piled back in, ready for home. More distractions this time. Loud music, hanging sleep, thick tension As two friends argue as he's flying down the freeway. Not even the loud lyrics and fighting friends can take his focus off the road.

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LastChapter said...
Dec. 12, 2010 at 9:28 pm
i feel like if you changed some words here and there and edited it to fit poem format, this could make a great poem. it has that rhythm that you look for in good poetry, and i liked the light, carefree feel to it.
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