The POTW: Verse Til It Hurts

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POTW #739
(Week of 26 September, 2010)
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After living within earshot of a speedway for several years, we finally got around to checking it out last night. It was great fun, and also a fine metaphor, so naturally there is a poem.

A Fast Spin Around a Dirt Circle

Stridently the engines yowl
One uninterrupted lengthy vowel
Fragile contraptions, flesh and metal
Heat, exhaust and scores to settle
Fleeing from the starting line
Revisiting it time after time
Jostle, pass, collide and flirt
Dizzy round a track of dirt
Race the straights and slide the curves
All heavy feet and foolhardy nerves
A gentle nudge or a sneeze or a cough
A tow truck comes to haul you off
On the nearby chilly tin of the bleachers
Soft inert indelicate creatures
Comment, vocalize and spectate
With chili dogs, beer, and Kaopectate
Some of the drivers finish first
A blink between the best and the worst
Light applause and then it's done
Clear for someone else's run

Copyright © 2010 by Dave Grossman

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