Burning wheels from a cast away

These burning wheels keep rolling down the dark hills
Leaving fire trails reminiscent of comets racing with photons at their heels
And when they hit the bottom and spin into the sea
The salty clouds they liberate dance into an aroma of something real

So if they float and make their way to your shores
Check for paragraphs etched and seered in the matte black rubber
From the top of a hill, on an island adrift
Yours truly, a cast away in need of a lift


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