Big Red + I.. on my 27th birthday
Whidby Island, WA
(photo by nbd)
Oh, let the roads stretch on
as taffy does, looping and pulling away,
to infinity.
This bike's wheels have met pavement
in four states with wild ambition,
and reckless speed.
We have
Caught bugs,
Crashed on and off road,
Slept in meadows together.
I have peddled, spinning high heated cadence-
throwing howls to the wind
with a broken heart,
more than once
upon her saddle.
But now, dirty hands have raped her,
and a dirty thief has surely sent her down the
river.
The day before she was stolen from
our garage, I met a woman that had a similar bike
and we spun around Lake Calhoun, MN.
Each day I brush against her
memory, and hope
she remembers coasting in peace,
rain or shine.
There is a scene in The Motorcycle Diaries,
where Alberto Granado pulls the drop cloth over his
now defunct motorcycle (christened La Poderosa//"The Mighty One").
He closed a chapter of freedom,
wheels offer any biped.
A simple ticket to rolling-
fluid movement- flight.
I firmly believe bicycles should be
standard issue item
to every human.
Never has a man made a more pure contraption-
provided such exuberance.
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