The Poetry of Brian Langley
I was tearing down the highway,
The sun was shining bright;
The road ahead was wide and flat,
No vehicles in sight.
I’d left the city far behind,
A long way yet to go.
The next town through which I must pass,
Three hundred K or so.
The shimmer of the desert air
Made on the road ahead,
Illusions of a silver lake,
As ever on I sped.
This was the fastest I had been,
My foot hard on the floor.
I can’t believe the thrill I got.
I’d not done this before.
Two hundred K, the speedo said;
It quivered not at all.
There’s no way I could go this fast
Back in the urban sprawl.
Then suddenly, disaster struck:
A bang from somewhere near.
The car was sliding sideways and
I found I couldn’t steer.
I tried to get it back on track,
But nothing seemed to work.
Somehow I think I’d left the road,
The car had gone berserk.
The world went spinning round and round;
It all seemed out of whack.
I seemed to float in time and space,
Then everything went black.
Then on the screen a message came;
A message that I dread.
“You’ve Crashed” it said, “You’ve no lives left,
Game Over! You are dead.”
© Brian Langley June 9 2007