wildscape. literary journal

Gas Guzzler Ghazal
by Corey Miller

Get in the truck, let’s pick up some faithfully lost hitchhikers & guzzle gasoline.
Every god consumes ethanol alcohol. Weedwhackers/humans run Marathon gasoline.

Life’s left turn lasts 500 years, never righting torn off rear-view mirroring straightforward answers.
We drive to our neighbor’s house for sugar because our stuck veins donate gasoline.

Your horsepower is cribbing the gate, backbiting sponsors stickering my windshield.
Evaporate an ozone, power up the brands styling our perpetuated lie: gasoline

will save us all. Breath the exhausted afterlife. Lay aluminum pipe in our mouths, name-dropping 
combustion out the other end. Stretching our intestines their true potential. Use me as gasoline. 

I’d be more productive minus my reproductive organs, ridding sex from possibility.
Fun sins fester my mind, like nutrients a heart pounding race after midnight for fucking gasoline.

Humans own ignorance we abuse more than our ancestors consumed on a hotbed
I search for glass shards sinking into the reservoir of my eyes, crying premium gasoline.

This deviled leg racecourse has me spinning wheels commuting to work to be able 
to live to be able to drive to be able to work to be able to live to be able to grab gasoline

by the horns. Charge an out-of-control future to this credit card debt I’ll stave off until 
EVs break down emergency equations. Drip out your pysanky eggs empty to wax gasoline

hieroglyphs onto decorated shell. Jewish holidays: They tried to kill us. They didn’t succeed. 
We celebrate with food & candles. We stand too close, bodies soaked in gasoline.

On my knees, welcoming the last Sunrise, I pray to understand creation of this liquid fossil 
scripture fracking fibbed capital evolution. Martyr Magician’s act to disappear within gasoline. 

Black ink on bleached paper pressed for information in a refined binding redacts easily.
Burn history like it never existed. Despite batteries 2025 set a record high demanding gasoline.

No surprises when the population grows, dragging middle glass increasing cashflow for the rich.
No need to share your wealth—you own the company. Land stolen to segregate octaned gasoline.

Even the generators don’t generate shit standalone, backing that power bottom up.
Cheers! Tipping goblet of ORGANicALly faIRtrAdE LocALlY SOURceD gasoline. 

We transformer cyborg. Gas tank bellies belching dinosaurs. Long antennae necks probing
out passenger windows. Joyride along for the nice age. Before the Rapture, barter your gasoline.

Corey’s getting angry. When did our bubbles expand? We are living in a society where mechanisms
only hold retirement at baby bomb bay & I have always loved the smell of freshly picked gasoline.

about the author // Corey Miller