Hand over hand straight to left
A thousand hands, wheel too hot to touch,
an noon, on Wake or Saipan.
A thousand might be millions,
The miles from home or to the next shore;
or lost friends or enemies.
Comfort of this hardened wheel
Something of home or of somehwhere cool
of Buicks and girls and seasons.



Very nice. When I saw the image I thought that perhaps it was taken with the Hasselblad and I tried checking for EXIF data on Flickr, which did not exist, leading me further to assume the Hasselblad.
You are right. I can’t reproduce that clarity digitally.