Korg

i’ve always said that
i’m afraid of driving

being trapped between two lines
with destruction either side
is not my idea of a good time

so much so, that
the day i almost hit a police car
i swore that i would never drive again

you on the other hand, work with cars.

you are a body worker, welding metal plates
and powder coating, finishing.

i’ve always felt comfortable with you
you drive effortlessly,
you know cars inside out
from years of fixing the breaks and wounds
caused by reckless drivers

one day
you took me into your tiny studio
with its analogue synthesizer -
vintage 70s
(they really knew how to build stuff back then)

and for the sake of curiosity
you let me try it out

at first, a tentative exploring

a few wrong notes
the twisting of a dial,

mirror neurons forging new synapses

then, rising out of nowhere

that sound.

a whirlwind of beating pulsations
and growls and sighs
oscillating resonance
a barely contained not-enough-hands

there was fire in that circuitry

and looking back i realise
that what we are afraid of is
just the faintest shadow of what we are

driving, with its safety codes
and rules and regulations
its white lines marking parking spaces
is not for me

there’s a different kind of beast
i want to ride