We are often shackled by our obligations
working hours
leases, mortgages
cleaning, laundry
grocery shopping
and although we may do
what we want
more often than not
there is rarely
a freedom
as pure and clear
as riding
a motorcycle.
The machine
like some
rediscovered
phantom limb-
satisfies an unknown longing
fills a nameless void.
The delicate dance
of clutch, throttle
break and shifter
as graceful and intuitive
as a feral feline on the hunt.
The world opens up
so broad and welcoming
you can almost hear
the beatific blessings of
Mother Nature
and the little gods of road, truck stop, and rambling.
Scent more sharp and potent,
wind so forceful
its presense almost has
a companionable solidity,
and the responsive rush of power
as the engine roars is like
a joyous cry
that rips out hot and eager
into the feckless dark.
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