And now for something completely different....
Marlene Dietrich
There was only one real way to get out of this town.
That, my friend, was on a Harley.
It didn't belong to me.
I put my brain in a bucket, set it behind me.
I grabbed the handlebars fiercely, because I was going to drive with my heart.
I didn't need to think about anything, I just needed to start.
I wandered along a county line road, and passed the farms and folks.
I could care less that I was a mess, I just wanted to feel some smoke.
I grabbed that highway divider line and twisted it like a snake.
I followed it for quite some time.
I felt a scratch on the back of my neck and jiggled myself around.
I found the hands of a reaper man trying to drag me down.
I flung that inept bloodsucker right off my back, onto the road.
He hit a curve, another car swerved, he was mangled, even his lost soul.
I didn't care.
He meant nothing to me, I had cheated him again.
While I felt the smooth, cool air, I laughed hideously.
I had done all the things I was ever going to do, I had some time to kill.
I wanted to get out of this place, I knew that I had the will.
I backed myself up into the garage.
I dismounted the bike.
I let it rest.
Knowing to wait in the sidelines of life;
Was no good, I decided when, where it would happen,
This time would pass.
Now, I was drivin so hard the rain did not touch my face.
I could not sense any emotion, only knew it was a race.
I was going against time.
Itcould be the last ride of my life, its winding road grown dim.
Some guy I knew divorced his wife and Harley became his mistress.
She gave him years of good love and all the warmth he could need.
So while I spun her I didn't care, I was just a passing shadow.
I didn't die that night, nor had I died the first time.
I was just a wanderer trying to fill the empty cup.
While the wind spit into the sky a bit of snow and sleet,
I came to find my brain again.
It was sittin' near the seat.
I plugged my conscious right back in.
Home again. Just in time to do the dishes, and cook the food.
Before my man came back.
Copyright 2010 words by SheilaTGTG55
Picture from Inspiration Nation by John Fugelsang
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Comments
I have wrecked one bike, and now I tricycle.
I always loved the nail-grip scars in my ribs.
Buy a cycle built for two, and go heigh haws.
Smiles.
Chores.
Windy.
Trees fell all night in the rain storm. Later.
A neighbor has a gallon of old corn. Chats.
We will sit next to a pot-belly wood stove.
Safer.
Sparks
Beauty.
{[R]}
(good girls go to heaven ... marleen goes - everywhere!)
~R
sophieh: I loved this picture and wanted to use it so badly so this is what I thought of...
Art: Thanks for the lovely verse. The picture you paint is a good one for me. This was out of my imagination. I have no idea what came over me....hahaha When I was in grade 8, my nickname was Sparky.....
Larry: Yes, that would be a great way to put it all, urgency, fear, satisfaction!
Michael: I don't have one, but a friend of ours does and it has most definitely improved his life....
Betamale:(good girls go to heaven ... marleen goes - everywhere!) GREAT LINE!!!!
Fusun: All imagination I am afraid....I once rode on the back of a friends bike about 30 years ago. It is the kind of thing you don't easily forget. A friend of ours who is divorced has been doing this riding for several years now and recently got a new bike. I think I was thinking of him. He is a very kind and generous person. I was thinking of him today, he just gave us a ham and some steaks for the holiday. He is that kind of friend. His daughter is the age of mine and she won't talk to him anymore...so sad. His ex wife kind of fostered that. So sad...
My brother spent 8 weeks in ICU after a spill he and his wife took. I simply don't have the guts to get on one anymore. R.
sidelines of life are a safe place to spend time
when the judgmental eye is upo n you
but when it isnt,
laugh as hideously as you are capable
This was sexy stuff, Sheila. The picture and the words. Brought back memories when I said yes to a harley ride with a hell's angel. It didn't end too well.
Great stuff, Sheila.