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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519071" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tyre</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just how it came to rest where it rested,<br>miles out, miles from the last farmhouse even,<br>was a fair question. Dropped by hurricane<br>or aeroplane perhaps for some reason,<br>put down as a cairn or marker, then lost.<br>Tractor-size, six or seven feet across,<br>it was sloughed, unconscious, warm to the touch,<br>its gashed, rhinoceros, sea-lion skin<br>nursing a gallon of rain in its gut.<br>Lashed to the planet with grasses and roots,<br>it had to be cut. Stood up it was drunk<br>or slugged, wanted nothing more than to slump,<br>to spiral back to its circle of sleep,<br>dream another year in its nest of peat.<br>We bullied it over the moor, drove it,<br>pushed from the back or turned it from the side,<br>unspooling a thread in the shape and form<br>of its tread, in its length, and in its line,<br>rolled its weight through broken walls, felt the shock<br>when it met with stones, guided its sleepwalk<br>down to meadows, fields, onto level ground.<br>There and then we were one connected thing,<br>five of us, all hands steering a tall ship<br>or one hand fingering a coin or ring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once on the road it picked up pace, free-wheeled,<br>then moved up through the gears, and wouldn't give<br>to shoulder-charges, kicks; resisted force<br>until to tangle with it would have been<br>to test bone against engine or machine,<br>to be dragged in, broken, thrown out again<br>minus a limb. So we let the thing go,<br>leaning into the bends and corners,<br>balanced and centred, riding the camber,<br>carried away with its own momentum.<br>We pictured an incident up ahead:<br>life carved open, gardens in half, parted,<br>a man on a motorbike taken down,<br>a phone-box upended, children erased,<br>police and an ambulance in attendance,<br>scuff-marks and the smell of broken rubber,<br>the tyre itself embedded in a house<br>or lying in a gutter, playing dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But down in the village the tyre was gone,<br>and not just gone but unseen and unheard of,<br>not curled like a cat in the graveyard, not<br>cornered in the playground like a reptile,<br>or found and kept like a giant fossil.<br>Not there or anywhere. No trace. Thin air.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Being more in tune with the feel of things<br>than science and facts, we knew that the tyre<br>had travelled too fast for its size and mass,<br>and broken through some barrier of speed,<br>outrun the act of being driven, steered,<br>and at that moment gone beyond itself<br>towards some other sphere, and disappeared.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Simon+Armitage">Simon Armitage</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519071" data-title="The Tyre de Simon Armitage" data-description="Just how it came to rest where it rested,
miles out, miles from the last farmhouse even,
was a fair question. Dropped by hurricane
or aeroplane perhaps for some reason,
put down as a cairn or marker, then lost.
Tractor-size, six or seven feet acro..."></div>
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