IN

Lap after lap after lap –
circles,
the derogatory term:
at 200 or 50 kilometers
per hour,
in continuation of 20 or 70…
it still is
the heart of it all.
He knows.

1

More, he knows
he is /human/. Way more
than many around him or
us
really do want to know.

A bible teaches him
and
a family carries him
and
a rival supports him
but
he knows
these are
just signposts
he must overcome.

Running in circles or
performing surgery
or winning elections,
it all is
the same to him.

2

He does it,
like nobody else does it
because he wants it
to /be/ something
greater and bigger than
Lauda could have imagined
or Hunt could have delivered.

Meaning;
to race when pain
from spastic muscles
shatters your brain.
Winning when there's
only a gold trophy to gain.
Pulling away further
when victory is already secured.

Driving,
when all the honors
have already been won
and death is happening
all around
calling its next customer
to enter
and definitively
surrender.

3

There is no peace in
such kinds of life and
there never had to be.
Senna flew off
Tamburello because
he knew/danced long past
the music, past
the company he once
came in to,
and with.

Still, he wanted to
get it back –
find it again
what he felt he had –
just as we have –
lost somewhere in
the progress.

Unlike Prost –
Senna let his torment
be public.
Trusting his struggle.
Genuinely be human flesh.

OUT

Understood so by hundreds
of thousands
who captured the need
to watch him drive:
be it to victory
or to his grave.