NAZARETH SPEEDWAY
The strip mall cannot replaceThe smell of exhaust and rubber
Not the asphalt parking lot
The hard packed dirt
That had seen countless years
Of countless tires
Circling the track.
Yet that same hard packed dirt
Absorbed our memories
OF the races we saw
And the smells and sounds
And yielded them back to us
Week after week
And year after year
Listen closely!
Beneath the asphalt
On a cool clear summer’s night
You can hear the roar
Of the memories of races
That cannot be silenced
Close your eyes
And sit in the stands once again.
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