Whisper in Steel

Lazy boy rocking at the wheel
Of a sick German engine spewing heat on the tar
A sweet, swollen hobo at its feet
Swizzled up all potential on the stoop stone bar

A blink on the Brattleboro streets
His coat rubbed with ashes from the smokes and exhaust
Silver wrapper flattened on the seat
Silver cup, dog eat metal on the spit bone frost

Truck engine growls as it screech
Metal mug, chrome expression molded-in by design
A pipe flap swings open like a wink
Of a great Danе with rabies, taking puffs of cigars

It isn't ideal, but the living is rеal
The future is here