The Little Engine that Crashed and Burned
Gabriel Duncan

Wait a minute,
I’m not done yet
How you gonna jet
You were the one
Who helped this wound infect

You just dropped the warhead
That sits in everybody’s pantry
The kind of cemented deniability
Even hubris can’t feed

So mortgage your reason
‘Cause it only comes in red and green
And you can get it for half off
If you drink a couple 40’s

It’s perfect for Christmas
Or any occasion
Drop yourself a line
You don’t need a reason

Use it on your enemies
But lovers are even better
It’s easier than a voice-mailed,
“Dear John,” letter

If I’m a waste of time
Even more than the pills
Then I’ll leave with mine
My life and its stills

Until they fade

We never made it
You got high
And I got jaded

So what’s the point of being taken
If you’re never getting taken back
Perforated while you’re unshaken
You force me to detach