There is a certain fascination in on-coming cars
Wheeling out of their subtangence to a curve
Which arches unsubstantial to a partner on the move.
There is in that severed second when the curve appears unreal,
Magnetized self-conscience between bodies on the move
Pulling both together toward an axis of intent
Until distance makes unreal wheels locked there for the touch,
The crush of body into body that annihilates, intestate,
All semblance of their outward selves. And what terrific sight is thus forborne
As passivity outrides a certain passion for resplendent death
After eye met eyes, agreed, and set in motion that great plan?
How puerile to resist unreasonably that sweet, wild pain
Piercing to patterns of each man as shattered steel
And substantial glass would pierce their monstrous hearts and brains.