Cleansed

I hated to carry my friends
for the car spoke volumes
to those who knew
of car-veiled hedonism,
of fast food shoved quickly
to hide the evidence,
save for the crumbs that clung.
Long time past, car washes inane,
the particles lingered
awaiting the OA NCIS,
the eyes of those who knew.
But long since the deviant excess
the slivers lied of the present
but recalled the brutal past.
But who could know?
A simple cleaning, scrubbing,
reclaiming...could speak of abstinence
rather than dismay.