Imagined Films

the screech of unseen tires
           sets the scene
the camera darts across a blinding curve
            at blinding speed
trees, hedges, cane-fields in the rear,
           even low-flying birds
                become a blur

this is black-and-white, the stripes ignite the earth
            grit flies at the lens;
the camera is a prowling tiger on the track
            of a blue bull
the camera is on track, closing in
on the dust-spurts from the hooves
            of the floundering blue bull

the stills come on now, trapped in the car
            doors caving in
the struggle, infinitely slow with seat belts that girdle you
            and jammed doors that wall you in

then low mist, slow mist, vapour-on-glass
                     amnesia
and dreams floating in, mist-cloaked
            like well disguised evasions