A warrior's death.
Your fist raised (as always)
cruising through the final gates
to the Eternal winner's circle
faster than we could ever have imagined.
- MLS
More like rolling thunder...
I turn my head to a wash of sunlight.
Not daytime. Lightning, maybe?
Kneeling on bed. Hands on window:
- eyes blinded!
(head thrown back a moment)
The lights are on above the stands.
So close!
I think, "Run your hand outside the window.
See if it comes back black with grease."
Smell the gas FEEL
the adrenaline like heat
coming in waves off the asphalt.
t i r e s r o l l i n g
rubberstickingtothetrack.
Flash of numbers
Zirr! Zirr! Zirr!
The call of the Underbird.
You crazy Polack!
If we all went backwards
Do you think we could turn back time?
What champions shine on when we are gone?
The sons: Ironheart to Ironhead. Iron Son Trinity.
It's in the blood, they say.
Blood? Damnwell bloody, if you ask me!
Family mass. Sundays
sacrificing to the God of Speed.
Look out jack! Comin' around again...
(Drifting. I missed that.)
Whooosh!
Here comes Alan!
Whooosh! Whooosh!
Now Bobby...then Davey, too!
And a black streak
tearing straight through the pack like nobody's business.
Hyuh-hyuh-hyuh!
chuckles a Divine presence
as if suddenly materialized by my side.
Me, wide-eyed. Child.
"Why aren't you racing, King Richard?"
Him, hiding behind shades.
Contrary to what some think,
I ain't allowed in this one, darlin'.
Not yet...
At that moment
the black car catapults ahead,
leaving all others in its dust.
Checker. Stop.
In slow-motion...
The crew rushes up to the car.
Empty.
And then it hits me:
Ironhead's dead.
The dream always ends here.
- MLS