appetite for destruction (poem for Paul Walker)

For Paul Walker. One time in high school I saw him in a Baja Fresh in Pasadena, just a regular guy getting his burrito.


White teeth:

the pride of a lion.

A unicorn’s mane is made of rainbow filaments,

strung high from the clouds

to the tip of the horn.

Crashed clown cars:

poetic deaths do little more

than scramble

a collective psychic yearning for violence.

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