Motorcycle Mama

she glided by in the fast lane on my left. straddling the hind end of a hog, looking elegant and lost. in my mind I met her at an art festival. her denim outfit graced her curves, she had a great ass, you could tell. we had coffee and talked, and talked, and laughed. she cradled my arm as we strolled the shady, art-lined sidewalks. I watched as her image passed from my rear view mirror to the peripheral field of vision on my left. her auburn hair tied up in a bow beneath the red kerchief. the suntanned nape of her neck the perfect back drop for the silver earrings. after she moved in, we’d make love every night the way new lovers always do. I know that far-away look. you only think you’re trapped baby. I could love you as much as you want to be loved. the hog slides into the lane in front of me. The ******* didn’t even bother with the turn signal.