Topgear, Fer Real! — a poem


Bad news crew on a road trip,

not slowing for the infrequent dip;
out drop-top cruising on a starry
night.  Passing

wheatfields, crows startle,
parrots gossip, the humming-
bird drinks from thorns — time

flies.  Though we melted
down the enslaving clocks
in honor of unreality —

we have time on our side.
The crazed Spaniard riding
shotgun calls out directions
to the driver. “Quel?” He lends
an ear, but does not comply.

And the two women enthroned
in the back seat are keeping

their peace.

So, this is my first response to TheSundayMuse (Sunday Muse #131), and my first response to any prompt in a long time.  At least, my first that I’ve bothered to post.

This piece only plays well if you know the players well.

28 thoughts on “Topgear, Fer Real! — a poem

  1. So much great stuff here. “the humming / -bird drinks from thorns — time / flies” is exceptional. Of course the enslaving clocks, lending an ear (!!!) but best is the mystery of “two women” enthroned in the back seat. Perfect.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. A great play on words and personalities in this tight knitted response to the artwork. Nice to see you again, you always wrote interesting poetry. “the honor of unreality” perceptions has curious vantage points.

    Liked by 1 person

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