Collecting all harmony in a tank of gas
I do not intend to toss my peace of mind…far or fast
And, when stage struck by the crackled pavement,
there can be moments of…
being off task.
Bound by no determination, I am the wind.
I am the specks of soiled earth…bouncing about shaded glass.
A feeling that is unplanned and never lasts.
You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes much sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge. And if you project forward from that pattern, then sometimes you can come up with something.
the art of motorcycle maintenance
on Two Wheels
Far off is the roller coaster…
Transformed, I am a small child, again, and again.
Awaiting my turn.
Awaiting my seasonal ride.
If I could turn the braided key?
Give spark to the engine?
All day, everyday…
Would my giddiness…still feel its sway?
Would I look over my shoulder?
Or, enjoy the spoils of always getting in my way?
At one junction…in another life…
In another drive-by…
Living in the sunshine, all the time.
The roller coaster…
Had lost all method of surprise!
Never had a rocking horse.
Nor an etiquette course.
No, made up, make-up, make believe…resource.
Did not have the usual suspects of delicate needs or powered pink posies…
Always driven by another kind of force.
Sometimes all we have is to go against the winds..
Sometimes all I had were a different sort of imaginary friends.
There is no tellin’ where a two speed dark horse can find her stride.
I only know, with edgy certainty, god’s speed and good speed belongs to the ride.
And, the solo secret to a good ride?
Doing everything you shouldn’t do
the few things you should…with pride.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance