The “DV3” and double “L” goes fast.
While riding forth into Life’s midday star,
A dozen yellow pentagrams flash past:
I’m undertaken by this gleaming car.
It shone black gold and pierced my driving sight,
It narrow misses harmless roadside thing
And rushes on, but drags behind the night
For poor, soft reckless rodent cowering.
My front-left, nearside wheel bites down, cuts through:
It chews and spits the splinters of the Earth;
It rips and mangles bones and brains and love.
I hear my voice. The screaming strangles you:
“What is my eighty-mile-an-hour life worth?”
Your silence deepens DV3 LL’sh doubt thereof.