drawn to two
I
Speed
Here I am fifty—
half a life
ago tearing rumbling charging along
mountain roads up and down the Saluda grade
driven by speed the leaning and revving
on two wheels
Harley-Davidson. Then
young reckless careless except for speed.
But those were days
of Marlboros and Budweiser
leathers no helmet
before children only the wife's fears like
a fallen phone-line
the pole I have to climb
the wires I have to restore
fusing anonymous
conversations calls for help emergencies
tying people back together
as I break away
the seat holding only one only me
alone.
II
Running
The years peeled away
the wind stripping me down to father
no leathers
smokeless all the lines connected
dial tones
replacing two wheels with shoes for jogging
the breeze gentle as my wife's contentment
bliss at her
healthy husband grounded
breathing hard against the loop of my own
design pointless laps
the throttle rumbling
inside my chest
moved up from between my legs
the desire of my thighs
jailed by heaving ribs
nylon rubber the thumping of strides
I imagine myself chrome polished black
red wings Harley-Davidson
two wheels
long distance direct.
III
Pedaling
As if I were falling backward a man
in my forties keeping conversations intact
from behind a desk
the pole no longer
between my heels my knees my thighs
replaced by a boy's toy
bicycle two wheels
driven by my legs
now pistons direct
to a chain drive crawling the same mountain
of my youth the grade reborn under me
pedaling my wife a woman I didn't marry
suffering through a cracked rib
broken collar
bone from leaning too far too slow
the recklessness gone
gray bearded collect
I pedal nearly unconscious ears ringing like
a call I must answer emergency two wheeled
and charging calling me red wings.
IV
Motor
Yes fifty
buying another two wheels Harley-Davidson
resurrected Phoenix rumbling between
my thighs hog wallowing in the rumbling
no longer speed but sensation
the seat built for two
my wife
behind me liberated dialed in to the cycles
of the motor built for feel
vibrating us
together husband wife red-winged
charging recklessly leaning
against each other shaking us conscious
awake waking to the telephone poles
passing us marking our loops up
through down the mountains there
regardless of us or the wheels
following asphalt us
drawn to two wheels
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