Two cylinders: staccato bouncingChrome-headed to nowhere particularRoad winding, drawing it into another curveAccelerating, like an eagle stooping on its prey

Black leather in the windSun; glasses shielding; bugsA straightaway in the distanceAnother town blinks;Farther the rubber takes it

A covered bridge in its sightIt drives its talons of steel into the burrowSprings out, a thread pulled through a needle

Onward; clutching its preyInto a higher gear, its spiritScreaming, wide open to the wind, as it pleases

Kick down; wings spreadIt corners another preyRolling to the left;Rolling to the right:Soars up the mountain to restAt the Eagle Nest Tavern