Prelude in G Major: Breaking Stride
for the late H.W.
Near the gas-lit starter's gate,
Sporting a strutting syntax,
Dangling part-disciples and
Ignoring invitations to a slipped-disc-o
the hipster's brow is arched
In disdain.
Eye sparks in-flamed code:
Not unlike an SOS of the soul.
I skidder on cinders, stop--
And Beechers Brooke is breached.
Wet, but intact, I step
Into the winner's circular
Bedded between flowers and flesh.
Uncertainty follows dismounting,
But celebrate the Grand-International--
At least until the next test of strength...
Graz, 1979
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