The F1 Drama
Sat amongst the guts of a roaring lion
The deep throat growl in his belly
The unimaginative speed from still to shriek
The smell of burned rubber and nerves of jelly.
The tight fit of measured metal and carbon fibre
Only two mirrors and a wheel in sight
No spit in an already dry mouth
Flame retardant overalls crushing manhood's aside.
The driver is the be all and end all
It's a team sport until the reds go out
The G force trying to rearrange your innards
To win to block to evade and to win again is what it's all about.
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Comments about this poem (The F1 Drama by Craig Anderson )
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