The Wheel Broke

The wheel broke, it didn’t roll

A numbness in the mind blinded

Stamping feet to no avail

It’s a wheel roll, dam roll

Bearings froze on a warm day

The eyes wide to the need of lubrication

Distressed of industry, foul, vital, dark

Spit proves the point.

To render fat or distill crude

In every sense of the word

The remnants, congealed grease

Petrified, purified, paleo dermis

How many more of us will it take

Till we can die and leave enough

To make grease oil and tar.

And then will there be a bicycle

Needing such gunk.


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