Bullet trains and charging birds
Running yields to riding
Horses yield to carts
Pushed carts stop for carriages
Drawn by bulky steeds
That whimper as the puttering engine speeds

The steamer yields to the auto
The auto yields to the train
Which become bullets flying on rails
Which fly cargo on metal sails
All the years flying and running and charging into one intersection of  chaos
The noise and screeches turning
As I spin lost in the traffic
But
The runners the charging horses the spinning wheels the churning cogs the burning oil the screaming steam the ricketing rails the roaring jets
Stop

For a kiss