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.

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