Breathing Fire…

Breathe of fire flows through the pipes,

Power from that big block of steel, it might,

When pushed to the limits of endurance,

By the foot planted in the floor, what a sight…

Speed doesn’t matter, what does, it’s looks,

Candy apple red with flames so bright,

Tuck and roll interior, and chrome reflect in light,

Polished wheels, so clean; chromed tow hooks too…

Made for show, with a modicum of go, so,

Here sits a show car with class to blow,

Most others on the cruise off the road,

For that matter look at how low,

She sits to the pavement; who needs ground effects…?

               © ed – 3/10/04