David laughed about starting his dad's Lorraine rocking
By dropping left front and right rear outriggers
Before their matching numbers.
No damage done.

No damage done as he slid the machine down an embankment,
Gravity outrunning engine RPMs.
"Mistakes only matter
When they're the kind you can't control."

No damage done at twenty-one,
As he dropped from future engineer
To alcohol and weed fuddled wanderer,
But with all the Universe ahead.

Second-hand, I heard
Of the summer he spent back home,
And imagine him standing
     Beside his father's rusting, worn-out Moto-Crane,
     Wondering at the lives he's thrown away.

11-22-99
 

Index     Snowlight