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Monday, July 22, 2013

Indian Motorcycle Entry #1

Muscled painted rusty steel
All the better to get the feel
Of the pebbles and the cracks in the pavement

Rolling 'neath my worn tires

With axle nuts held on by pliers
This ride is a tired bedraggled beast

When the falling down barn comes into view

The frame flexes that way as if it knew
That this was it's final resting place of peace

Into a rock walled corner

Smothered in a military grade tarp
This Indian now waits for younger hands and eyes

To own the road in their own time