A clear innocence flavour their pursuits. A sense of unobtrusive
dignity pervade pursuits spanning from exalted undertakings to prosaic
chores. If there is a place where a wanderer would gaze back with
longing in heart and a vow to return, it would be this.
NO. 11
(A PIECE ABOUT ILLEGAL WEEKEND RACING)
a trail of cold wetness
a passing rain's legacy
a weekend's night
at the square's hub
pungence of pumping exhaust
hazy light beams streak
their path through the murky blur
the public mingle at street fringes
as streaks of lights
mark their motorised presence
has anyone found their night's beacon ?
or is it only tonight's attraction
destined to be next morning's faded memory ?
screeches and skids
upon asphalt surface
burning rubber doused by moist surface
thrills in a rush
bets on the line for momentary glory
without flawless display
a reckless fool he becomes
how we've lived and where we're heading vanishes
when adrenaline shoots from a quick draw
all philosophical speculation abruptly cease
has anyone found their life's beacon ?
or is it only tonight's attraction
destined to crack up and fade at first light ?
8>)
MARKET PLACE
Peddlers and buyers parley.
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