Death rides shotgun with me. She likes to fiddle with my vintage knobs full blast. She won’t give up my right view spectacular from the driver’s seat. Not even me, not even for a kid or lamb would stop her riding me to bones. She offers anatomy lessons on where to cut or blow the rubber heading toward the horizon backseat emptier than before. At least it’s quieter than before now I’ve answered all of God’s questions for me. I will let death take a turn and burn rubber when children & mothers are cleared from the emerging path.