Wheels

Out stretching my legs, I move over for the tractor and

huge trailer to pass, its beautiful sweet rot of silage

taking me back forty years and especially to that Christmas

morning feeding livestock and the thrill of you with me

in the cab, the other thrill as we slid at speed down the

dewy hill - differential fucked and a ton of pungent maize

thrusting from behind with the wheels locked so that even

surviving intact couldn’t take the rush of that movement

away. So today we still seek out the existential, though on

other treads, driving the car well over 100 on that last bend

up the by-pass before turning off towards home. It’s all OK

as long as the wheels don’t fall off, and for obvious but also

different reasons we can’t rely on our legs for moving out

into the faster lane, another weight pushing from behind.