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[peter danielsen]

Alas!
peters bus have broken headlights
the brake fluid bleed
the horn is stuck

See the wipers struggle with the rain
in the mighty moment
when the scrap pile hits the edge
sailing out into the night
with a tail of sparks

Hear the minor chords of the horn
throwing waves away
into the ocean of agony
Like a mournful whale of the seventies
who finds himself about to die
with a stubborn love pulse
under a mountain of ice

[Marisha]

glad everything is going well for you, Peter