By Gabriel Foster

Angelic skills guided the steam ship Angelica like the grace of angels 
around every twisted danger of unforgiving mountains.

Nine other steam ships were licking her trail with predatory fever.
The only rules of the race were to survive and win. 
The purse amount was five million dollars to the winner.

The Burning Claw steam ship was the only hell fire of competition 
for the Angelica. 
Snipers took their shots across the bow hoping to hit their targets 
of the Angelica, who moved like Muppets passing windows in frantic 
screams to avoid crashing into the mountains where the race official 
outposts stood.

The team of the Angelica would only breath a sigh of relief, 
whenever their ship got into bed with the thickest of white 
clouds, shielding any potential large headed targets from snipers 
having a clear shot at them.

The Burning Claw earned its name from systematically dismantling 
their competitors like cheap prostitutes in back-alley propositions,
with the indignity of shame splattered over their faces.

The final bend crept up on the Angelica, 
the clouds scattered like mice and a clear view was taken advantage of.

The Burning Claw’s captain piloting the ship was struck with 
a bullet in the shoulder by Angelica’s best marksman. 
The Burning Claw partially crashed its right side into the mountain slowing 
its speed significantly and putting enough distance between them 
and Angelica out of bullet reach.

The team of the Angelica was breathing hard, 
some out of fear and others out of relief. 

The captain pointed in front of them at the finish line near two clouds 
and they all slowly began to smile, 
some even cried like babies, because they knew the five million was going to help their 
families…..aka wives who needed work done on themselves for just being
married to those whipped husbands.

Smiling turned into laughter and appreciation, 
for they all knew how hard they had to work on the ship 
and their dependence on each other to win this seemingly impossible race.

GF Poetic Wisdom | Competition sings the praises of winners and boos the heartache of losers. ~ Gabriel Foster