Spicy red car,
Pounding out the asphalt,
The stereo stretches out behind,
A cloud of swirling, orange music.
The tires scream,
The flim-flam doors shake,
The bass beats trap behind the windows,
Pushing and squeezing through the cracks.
It all tears off down the street,
Leaving a taste of tires and ego,
And a stream of cloud music,
All fading away within seconds.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.