His face, a flag, fades
and folds into
what it once was—
in death, an anthem
to itself. He is wave
after wave of what
promised to be
a good ride. Always
in four-wheel drive,
he is passenger
and pilot both.
The roll bar protects us
from breaking
our necks.
What we know
about him,
we know
without doors,
without windows,
without a roof.