The Poetry of Brian Langley

 

 

  

The Highway Man

 

 

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

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