WayneSL 1988
Leaning forward Skijump Stance
jawset faces cutting wind
chromeplate eyes scan grey-brown haze.
Out of the mountains we ooze
in a rolling rush downhill
to coalesce in painted metal rivers
spreading on the shrouded valley floor.
Roaring rapids, chrome and glass
spray and steam and smoke.
Eddies swirl at on-and-off ramps
Rubber ripples shining wet
reflect the sun’s weak penetration
of the brown-cloud glare.
A barracuda’s darting dance
flaunting lane-change pirouettes
taunts the surly diesel rhinos
flouts majestic ocean liners,
manic minnows fawning in their wakes.
An open lane, a gush of gas
A carom off a gravel truck
slomo flight, wheels spinning airborne
graceful leap across the chainlink
a somersault & a half twist
Flying in formation
with a dozen spinning shards of shattered plastic
and windshield glass spraying like rock salt soaked in red.
The river curdles, standstill spreading from the snag
up and down the grid the grinding jam congeals.
Engines whirring idle, gnashing teeth, hot tar and radios.
The smoke begins to rise
and reeks of hair and gasoline and rubber soot
and I’ll be late again and likely lose my parking spot.
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