The cool of steel

Quiet time rewind

Soft click on the turntable

Don’t mind

Miles on down the road

Paint peeling off the fender side

The hard glare yanks back

Like a thunder clap

Cars traveling mach ten

down the freeway

The sound of zen

symmetrical from

One end to the other

As if I remember

Hair stands on end and

Dances in the wind

Saucers overhead beat

Down radiating waves 

Another planet

Feel like hitting send

Do not worry and do not lie

Crankshaft rotates counterclockwise 

Spinning feverishly preparing for

The inevitable green light

White bare mist hovers just feet beyond

Call it sky, call it burn out

The window panes of black sheets

Mild steel rolled to clean perfection

In the heat

Chalk stains the runway

Before the afternoon rain

Draining liquid into a culvert

Tinted pale tinted from the rail

Once was a factor 

But it no longer gives the affect

By gears of mortality

The longer we wait

More in tune 

To climb back into the seat

Just to hold the throttle

To get that feel