Thursday, February 19, 2009

True As Icaras

(A Poem about videogame Wipeout, or Not)

Having not yet acknowledged sol
Icarus leaps nightly into the boiling planet.
Aerodynamics flake feathers off soon,
thus precision of landing point is paramount.

"I cannot fly my craft any more" wails wile e. coyote.
"Cannot swing this, this ... roadrunner endpoint of life."
Animal is referring to bending turns, sans cruise control.
You know, because most people use the cruise control.

I think I tried to make a joke, forgot the marker.
Accuracy ... seeping off, like hydraulics.
Even the deaf can feel it, even the blind can taste ...
Icarus crashing deeply into the boiling earth of sol.

Under the concrete, there are a few green plants, and roots.
But how could Icarus affine to them, with only tales of pilot days?
"I was flying high, you know ... and you ... are stuck in the ground ..."

Boiling undergound, till Icaras can break out and fly again.

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