the way her arms weren't wrapped around him
scared me at first
she wasn't clenching
not holding on for her own sweet and dear life
instead
her hands ran up and down his torso
her fingers sensing his muscles, his ribs
as he steered and impelled the motorcycle through traffic
her head on his back
her eyes closed
I looked
and looked
then looked away
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six foot skinny
Writer to the Stars
Zyskandar Jaimot
Mary Ann Farley
thatdamnbob
Grannypower
Salon.com
Comments
Very cool poem
rated
John, you may not be surprised to know that I have no idea what back foot pegs are. Do they make an impact on how the passenger sits? Surely not on what she does with her hands, right?
Duane, no wise ass words? What? It's titled "Motorcycle", doesn't that impel you to be a smart ass?
Thanks, Charity. I saw this image last night. Had to get it out of my head, and it came out in a poem. Funny that.
I never had a motorcycle riding boyfriend... even though I wanted one.