To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this idling pace from Daytona to Daytona,
To South Dakota in record time;
And all our sealed beams have lighted fools
The way to leathery death. Out, out, brief v-twin!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor squid.
Those struts and forks descend upon The Sturge,
And then…