Silent Cycles


Late-night restaurant after the reading,
With a TV set in the corner:
Motorcycle races,
Live from the daylight side of the world,
With the sound turned down.  

See them glide along the winding road,
Silent as swans on a lake,
Leaning implausibly far into the turns,
Left ... 
Right ...
Left ... 
Right ...
More like dancers than racers.  

These are racing machines, 
Rough edges covered over for aerodynamics, 
Hiding their inner nature.  
It is difficult to judge scale,
And the camera angles downplay their speed
Posted now and then in little numbers on the screen.  

Part of me finds the silent ballet soothing,
Even though my left brain knows 
That for the riders it is quite otherwise.  



                                   -- Tom Digby
                                   6:42 p.m. February 6, 1997 
                                   12:20 a.m. February 7, 1997