Time Trial
Who perceives the moment when his mind swerves
And his spine is frozen, refusing to believe?
But see, see how he leans into the curves.
Error beyond the speed of light preserves
The image of grace, but there is no reprieve
In the awful moment when his mind swerves.
Light-absorbing, the suit of leather serves
To hide the flesh, and no one thinks to grieve
Until they see him lean into the curves.
Rapt in the veil of speed, his mind observes
Occam's Razor, but all unities deceive
Him in the dark moment when his mind swerves.
All modern minds agree that motion blurs
Time's cadence: How smoothly things arrive or leave
Depends on how they lean into the curves.
The breeze convulsing like a loaded nerve
Imprints the after-image of the bike's weave.
Who perceives the moment of the mind's swerve,
As the crowd's eye leans into an empty curve?
DL