Poetry-Thing Thursday: The Big Fin

I like the feel,
the push and pull,
of gravity and steel,
with the throttle at full.

The rumble of the engine.
Pulsing heat.
Surge of adrenaline,
coursing head-to-feet.

An amplifier,
cranked up past eleven.
Trembling thunder,
from bass-note heaven.

Slap and the pop,
high and low lows,
take you to the top,
even if the tempo slows.

It’s the terror
of 1 hp, a two-hour raid,
the smell of good weed,
the day you get paid.

It’s what you feel,
deep inside,
reeling,
‘cause of opposing inner-tides.

Exhilaration.
Terror.
Pleasure.
Pain.

All the same.
And so much more.
We play the game.
To rig the score.

‘Cause in the end,
we want to win.
‘Round the bend,
we know no sin.
This life is ours,
forever akin,
to filled hours,
before the big fin.

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