Friday, April 30, 2010

Off to the Races

Three-eighths of a mile
Pitched and curved
Coated with asphalt
Rumbling, vibrating
To the sound of a thousand
Lawn mowers
Surrounded by gawkers
In lawn chairs.
Coolers prop up their feet.
Neon numbers
On stripped out hoopties
Accelerate, decelerate
Roar, then growl
Sprint, then dig
Hard into the sloping bank
Fishtailing, recovering
Drawing screams from the masses.
Smoke, dust, dreams of Daytona
The sweet smell of carbon emissions
Surrounding a checkered flag.

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