The Warrior
His gloved hands grip the wheel.
Reins to a snarling beast,
Ready to tear down a quarter mile strip,
Into the horizon.
Clad in leather and fiberglass,
He sits caged within the creature.
The vibrations of the engine, violent.
A chaotic heartbeat from a ticker
Fueled by chemicals and fire.
Its master is aged,
Spending 60 plus years figuring out ways to blur reality.
His senses are in tune,
Knowing every facet of the monster he created.
He had taken this trip so many times before,
It was natural to him now, a routine.
The tree divides him,
From what will be his enemy for the next 10 seconds.
A red light holds him back,
Always giving him one last chance to see reason.
The light vanishes, streaming yellow lights tease,
Coaxing his chariot into an uncontrollable rage.
Yellow blends to green,
The Warrior breaks the chains,
He finds pleasure in speed,
and sees the mundane keeping pace with everything else.
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