A long stretch of highway,
80 miles per hour,
Death could show herself
At any one second.
Yet this is not even enter
The mind of the modern man.
A puff of smoke
From a cigarette,
A slow, billowy cloud,
Sucked from the window,
Left behind with the dust,
To fade with the wind
A laugh once heard,
In the passenger seat,
Could disappear in a moment,
Like the cigarette smoke,
And the seconds that pass by
To take life away.
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