Joshua Judson – latest version SST7 headline

1 Jul

We’re both nineteen,

Separated by three months 

and an off-limits ashtray.

We’re both baking soda white,

I’m shotgun.

 

When we fell out of college together,

you were caught by 15k a year.

Poetry is harder to hang onto.

 

Foot down,

my chest and it’s contents

barrel down towards Derby

through rain-dregs

you explain the sensation 

as ‘0-70 in six seconds’.

 

Foot down 

and we’re reduced 

to just flow

a quicktime swerve

of enjambment.

 

Cutting up lesser line breaks.

Acceleration rabbit punch.

A quick Cristal sip

down the gullet 

of the A52.

 

You’ve clock-watched enough

to earn a Boxster backed into your garage.

 

This money

It lives to be looked at.

It slows down to five for speed bumps.

It implies greatness through strange eyes.

It is soft top ambition.

 

You’re still not sure if it was a good idea,

just that it was an expensive one.

 

You’re still not sure if they’re the same thing.

 

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