ON THE WAY BACK HOME

My hand on

  the steering

wheel dances

with silent

and humdrum

  beat of

center lines.

  Those yellow

rhythms loom

in the pale

head light 

  like small

dots of

   turn table.

As my right 

foot moves

forward, 

  those yellow

lines swing

  rhythm from

33 to 45. 

The car

dances 

   beneath

numerous

   audience

of stars 

applauding

with sparkle.

  I open the

window and

   answer them.

Yes, I am 

the host 

    of this

quiet party.

　
1985
(c)2000 Naoki Takao (1985)