Laughter spills through cracked windows, Sharp as glass and twice as fleeting. Faces blur— Youth baptized in headlights, Grins stained with whatever comes next. The engine hums a low hymn, A song for backroads and borrowed time. Cigarette embers scatter like fallen stars, Burning quick, Burning out. Eyes dart to the mirror, But they don’t see the end— Just shadows of themselves, Racing toward it With the music turned loud.