'A QUICK ONE
WHILE HE'S AWAY'
Nightfall has drawn again and mostly all
that nature stuff is quiet. Sitting by this
window, darkened, bearing certain mystery
now, I only hear the things I imagine to be
there. The way I like it - a sniglet of an
ice-cream dream in a dark, deep chocolate
night. Yet. Yet. Yet. All I hear recurring
is some nasty highway drone of screaming,
racing motorbikes at 7000 rpm. I don't
know how these guys can do that -
screeching Suzukis at ozone-otic speeds.
Blur and terror. One small mishap, those
dudes are gone at 90mph. Rahway here
is full of them. They rip from Newark and
Elizabeth southward, and back, along
Route One. Taunting each other, light
to light, straight-line bleeders on the torch
of light that is their night. God protect
the first one down. A quick one, while
He's away.
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