scorched...

...either the road or the tyres

blowing

either the falling leaf or my hair

shaking

either the horizon or speedo needle

sinking

either landscape in rvm or fuel

tightening

either the turns or my grip

slipping

either gravel or heed... at times

whispering

either clouds or air through helmet

decorated

either fuel stations or soul

swearing

either slow four wheels or me

closing in

either me or the tank

growing

either distance or desire to ride

-gaurav

catch some shade...

... I thought

as it was hot sunny

‘Trees’ seemed a good scheme

But they don’t seed them

along the fastest lane

poles are poles apart

too thin to cast shadow

here's a small iron bridge

but for few stout girders

I, with my ride wont trudge

ah! there’s this tall truck

‘moving’ shade while moving

yes, far more better

soon in shadow of raised road

it went down the flyover

someone told him so

so he came dragging the dark patch

this white hovering boon

its some form of water they say

so the shade is cool i reckon

‘you won’t catch up

the cabby said

'they sprint up there insane'

but I easily did

as I was on the fastest lane

- gaurav

white stripes...

...coming under the front wheel

one behind the other

and the other in front of it

slowly merging

into one gapless white line

or maybe grey,

trees coming as close

to form a hedge,

tears not staying too long onto cheek

flying or drying, I don’t know,

collar corners fluttering

beating on neck

turning the skin red on spot,

engine going silent

maybe wind filling the ears

blocking the motor noise,

oh! I reached here so soon,

the line broke as I slowed down

perforations re-appear

white thread got stitched

into black cloth, again

no wonder

I was speeding

-gaurav