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The Pickup

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Tinted windows to the heavy door,
Leads to scratchy cloth seats
And air fresheners.
There’s a roar, a beast coming to life,
Triggering the pounding bass.
The tint rolls away to allow wind to fly in faces and tangle hair.
Stories are interrupted by stories;
Many are forgotten in between.
Cheap Arizona turns digits to ice,
Liquid refreshment not worth the pain.
McDonalds is eaten in the parking lot,
And memories are made
That will last a lifetime.





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