69__The car that overtook me.
Hyperdrive out.
Time stood still.
I was overtaken by a car, overdrive on, by the left, with no driver at the wheel.
That car had neither windscreen nor rear window.
This shadow of a car was a shadow.
A pale rider, on a road of a doubt.
A severed stealth car from the seals of Max von Sydow,
buying minutes on Skid Row,
a shard of a long gone memory,
a slow coming dace, swimming fast past the blow.
It was a golf widow, motor race widow,
a bait car, for the bigger minnow,
turned amok running an errand for a departed driving soul that might kill at will's
sliding glance, grilling the fillets of silence in a wok.
A car of blind smoke.