The suit is pressed, but the man’s unraveling— A shark in shallow water, Grinding his teeth on the steering wheel And muttering hymns to neon gods. The skyline melts into bruised light, Each building a tombstone For promises he made And never kept. He’s driving nowhere, but fast— Past lives, past exits, Through a windshield smeared with ghosts. The gas is cheap, but the ride costs everything. And he knows it.