A twisted grin frozen in time, Eyes wide like headlights, Chasing some neon mirage down a forgotten road. The van creaks— Part metal, part memory, Held together by laughter and dread. Pink fabric clings like an apology, Smudged, streaked, A cartoon suit for a man unraveling. In the rearview, the world fades: Signs flicker, Gas stations close, But the rabbit keeps driving. Somewhere out there, He’s already late For something that doesn’t exist.