Spinning wheels, tyres on point
as rubber adheres to tarmac in thick
long lines of speed,
whittling, screeching, peeling,
the engine roars with the ferocity
of two hundred horses screaming
against their metal prison,
torque bending frame, pushing
up against tensile limit
as robust disc holds steady
in the face of oblivion.

Elongated wooden oval,
dipped in green vinyl,
four spokes on two axels
bursting with polyurethane power,
gripping front and back
precise control to pipe dreams,
half height full ollie,
goofy grinning
that rush of air.

Domed fabric billowing a safety
conscious convex carrier,
drop, like rain, to welcoming
circles of green comfort,
wind and cold blast and bluster,
mustering bites through
concentrated angles
while self puppeteering
to Gaia’s heavenly body.