poem, poetry, aging, relativity

AS OF COURSE YOU WERE

golden child soared
got hit

fell, crash-landed
amongst the other scrapyard relics

could have
taken a lifetime; could
have just taken seconds

relativity is critical
to the speed at which others age

indeed, retrospectively,
hurtling down the straight,
throwing yourself
into bends
accelerating out of corners

chewing up
the tarmac

all seems so slow, so laboured,
so back in model T, so
(to back up
a bit
reverse to the point of
our eating the road metaphor)

like you were nibbling your way
through a five course dinner

making a meal
of your life, as
of course you were

golden child soared
suffered much flak damage

the body

can only take so much panelbeating
and not a scratch more