This long sweep of blacktop is more than a road
Snaking under the Downs: it’s the mother lode –
One that I’ve prospected, blasted, mined
Many times, knowing just what I’m going to find:
There are thick, rich veins of miles-per-hour
Running through this country, and I have the power
To dig down deep through layers of pain.
I’ve struck lucky before, and I’ll find it again:
Magnesium sun on skin today:
All the heat I need for this next assay
Of myself: weigh my worth, test my soul’s desire –
Flecks of gold, iron core, and a restless fire.