The Boys

When I was with my mates, my pals, in my age - in that ageless era, idiots all. We had fine old rollicking times. We had Vespa's and Lamberti's then we had Norton's and Triumphs leather and hard looks. We rode drunk on ourselves, spinning along on our fake paths into inglorious adulthood, a green maturity just a few short miles down the road. The girls were fast, they grew up ahead of us; some waited for us boys to catch up, most found men with jobs. The plain girls that waited holding a bitter grudge on us even to this day. Though in truth we are blessed to linger on astride our broken wheels while we wave idiotically at each other wobbling along catcalling to the grave.