Time Trials

At two hundred miles an hour on bald tires,
Urgency jumped the raw, red light.
Burning down a road bulging with desperation,
I delivered a bastard with wet fingers and wipe-outs.
The caution flag waves, pit crews scramble.
Time is a ruthless competitor, too much torque.
I want to snap the brake cables,
Hammer the accelerator through the floor,
Laugh at those solid white lines of banality
And finish with a blown head gasket.