My heart pumps hot nicotine.
The theme of the chase is blasting in my ears.
I am a steel gazelle;
a bodhisattva of destruction
exhaling death and pounding enlightenment
into asphalt beneath my rubber hoof.
I am in my prime;
a flash of silver.
I glide past plastic haunches,
blinking eyes in my peripherals as I launch myself
down the twisted savanna.
My vision covers every corner,
searching for dark and wailing predators.
The wind deafens my ear and waters my eyes
as the smoke from my cigarette falls behind me;
a ghostly reminder of my horrible passing.
In that moment of slaughter and cement
I am alive.