I took a fast drive in a real fast car,
mine,
if you are new to my gig.
A series of bold canyon flights
made there just before light
broke the sky
in an Easterly blaze all of crimson.
With my heart in my ears,
I carved corners, shifting gears,
synchronized to that engine's cacophonous howl.
In what some would call drastic,
I tell you,
I tripped the night fantastic,
a dance of a sort kin only to dreaming.
Then caught in an instant
drawn out like thousand fold,
and expanded as if in slow motion,
fluid motion ahead, yet before I had said,
"HOLY CRAP!" there I was,
all amongst them,
eye to eye with a predators gaze.
The Coyote out here
live a life short on fear
and at six,
to a pack,
well,
I was mostly outnumbered.
But they broke to the flanks
as I carved through their ranks,
all for an instant,
we shared the same path,
and acknowledged one another,
as if all in a surreal
glorious kind of dream.
My back of my neck hair bristled,
My fingers slightly trembled,
perched,
in the cool night's slipstream of air
above the open expanse of the windshield...
Seldom have I felt so very alive...