Speedway soars
without pit or champion.
Glow of dashboard.
Echo of centrifugal force.
Cars never cross the finish line
bleached with tire marks.
White-knuckled steering wheels.
Endless narrow-eyed loop.
At night there is no grandstand.
I am the only fan.
Awake.
Dizzy with silent exhaust.
Inhaled secrets.
Drivers envy the cool
underside of my pillow.
I hide under the covers.
Dream headlong.
Dream headlong.
tk/November 2014
Charming read by R.A.D. Stainforth and Amy the cat...
Charming read by R.A.D. Stainforth and Amy the cat...
