The lights passed over
the windshield
dancing and moving
like fireflies in some
coharent march
his eyes laced with work
induced tired.
smoke pouring out of his mouth,
turning into clouds of life
never to be recaptured.
poetry falling out
of his head at random
filling the car with images
that only he and I can see
he is happy, almost content.
I look over now
and all I see is an empty seat.
no one can take his place
now I wait.
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Submission Name: the end of spring
