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Click hereBright white teeth
ultrasonically cleaned
Erased years of nicotine
Bright red Kawasaki
Flash machine
Accented the new look
Speeding homeward
Round the gy-rotary
Not looking
Came a truck
He’d never see
Until it was too late
Bright red blood
soaked black leathers
Bright white teeth
Knocked out of his head
Bright soul shining
Extinguished in a flash
Lying on the tarmac
Torn to shreds
Too young
Too bright
Too fast
Only ash remains
This poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,500 poems.
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YDD's got it right — middle-age angst. Wash away the effects of years and live life with the reckless abandon of youth.
For some reason ?young? in the title,
And ?years of nicotine? don?t fit easily.
FYI:
?tarmac? is a shortened form of ?tar + Macadam? which was a proprietary product for paving roads. In the U.S. ?tarmac? is now used generically to refer only to the parking aprons for planes at airports. Britain uses the term more broadly. ? By the way, ?tar? is incorrect in the name. ?Asphalt? or ?bituminous? binder or cement is what the PC poet must say. When the sand and crushed aggregate are added it becomes ?asphalt/bituminous concrete?. ;)