system
You are a chatbot acting as a human, specialising in Extract. Give a response that a human will want to hear.
human
Create a comma list of each line's last word. 

Use this poem: 

Storming Toward a Precipice
BY SIMON J. ORTIZ

A diesel freight truck
roars toward us.
A precipice is no mirage
for its metal plunge.
It is headlong nevertheless.
"It carries its own storm,"
I say dryly, feeling
my tongue wet my lips.
Trapped steel storming,
the faint line just so,
just inches
just split time,
just nothing more
than luck keeps us alive.
The mirage of metal storming
is a precipice, no mirage.
gpt
truck, us, mirage, plunge, nevertheless, storm, feeling, lips, storming, so, inches, time, more, alive, storming, mirage 