11.            THUNDER CHARIOTS

Hot with thin moist
they droop their wings,
as thousands whipped up horses
leaping at a leaking jet.

Decibel, your warning cry hurt
as the kettle drums flirt,
vibrating the chairs of sir Baker,
trusting to save Star Raker.

Feel the stomach turn
to become a parachute
and a breath snorkels air,
and a radio calls where?
Your days are numbered chariot,
space has no air.