Motorcyclists terrify me
I fear they will fly off the road
Who will stop to help?
Will we all keep whizzing by?
Every motorcyclist is someone’s baby
Someone’s grandchild, someone’s love
On the interstate where no one is careful, I cringe.
Terrified the rider is going to be maimed or killed
I say a prayer when I see a motorcyclist heading my way.
I try never to pass him or her.
Hoping not to see them again
Lying next to the road or worse.
Categories:
motorcyclist, life,
Form: Free verse
my internal voice yelled “watch out!
He is going to pull out in front of you!”
I slowed down for a motorcyclist.
A mother’s son
A brother
a cousin
a grandmother’s joy
who pulled out in front of my car
missing my hood by six feet
I have no idea if he saw me or my car
but I saw him
the boy I saved
Categories:
motorcyclist, brother,
Form: Free verse
1947 Ford and Chevys passing striding horses
identical street cars at the corner
shops with piling in people
purses swinging in the rain
street clocks announcing four thirty
minions off work walking toward home
bicyclist meeting motorcyclist
Peel and St Catherine are alive
I watch from my window
two tandem horses
wearing blinders
having no idea what is happening
plain colored umbrellas at attention
drizzling rain out there
mostly adults yet one teen
Montreal is closing down for the day
Categories:
motorcyclist, nostalgia,
Form: Free verse
In the rear view is a big slab rider in
tiger prints on the open road.
Off the pike and down the route, I
see my breath she sees the inside of
a brain bucket lid.
Crispy corn snakes slither between those
bubble gum wheels, I see my breath she
parts the fog with hot drag pipes.
Her gore-tex grips those tasseled ape hangers, in
armor head to toe.
The silence breaks into four-banger parade,
I see my breath she lets off the
binder and flogs up the dawn.
Categories:
motorcyclist, people, visionary
Form: Free verse