Does he see?

Zippp and buckle;
I don my leather armour.
Ready to ride.
Shiny black and chrome, purring power.

An elderly gent materialized
out of that gas station perfume.
He asks me,

“Dear, can I take
you home?
You’re my
fantasy woman.”

Does he see
me
chase freedom
down the open road?

Maybe he sees curvaceous
country backroads
hiding mysterious shadows . . .

Does he see
me
rocket around corners,
that adrenaline throttle-twist?

Or does he see
me
weave and dodge
through rush hour traffic?
I’m in spin cycle now.

I wonder if he saw
me
grab my front
brake,
in gravel?

Did he see
me
fly over the handlebars,
and the mirror’s rib-cracking kiss?

Did he see
me
and my silver steed on
the ground in
a swirl of dust?

No, only a
blonde in black
leather.

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Author: lyndaladret

Discovered writing stories and poems through Outlander and encouragement from Sam Heughan's MPC2016 program. My new hobby is photography! check out MPC2017.com to join the #BestGroupEver

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