royness ( ' ' )


Quick, instinctive –
We strap ourselves in. Switch on
the stereo, flick headlights –
the engine growls and whines,
shivering with excitement.

This machine
Is an extension of ourselves.
Strapped down, plugged in,
Legs work like levers, hands
Run the wheel. Here
in the back, the trees
Merge into one. A sickness is rising.
A long grey railing flows
alongside us. I open the window, fumes
fill the compartment.

The dial wavers, stalls –
It seems unsure
Whether we can go
Faster –
I catch a glimpse
Of signs, lights, cars.
We are heading nowhere.
We need no fuel, we run
On pure adrenaline.

We crash past two cars
Crumpled into each other –
A world full of accidents, collisions -
Flowers by the roadside, firemen
Cutting bodies from the wreckage.

We are close to the edge -
Sirens are firing on all sides. My
Eyes are blurring circles. At one
With our machine, ready to meet
Head-on -
I am holding my breath.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Poem Edited: Monday, April 14, 2008

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