Monday, October 21, 2013

Live to Ride

Mid seventies, perfect temperature and just a tiny nip of cool in the light breeze. Her breasts brush my back now and then, her thighs tighten against my hips as I take corners at speeds she thinks are not reasonable. But for these slight movements she is a spirit, hardly there yet always available, my kindred partner in freedom.

Shoulders too long protected by hours hunching over a keyboard, burn in the high noon sun. Hair slings backward, a silver mane whipping the wind as if it could catch the wind unawares. Eyes wide behind darkened plastic, spotting every movement, scanning the horizon for trouble, absorbing the colors, shapes and flashes of light and dark.

Palms sweaty with adrenaline, twisting the throttle down, then up, then down to take the next corner with gforce. Biceps and forearms flex, clearly visible in the twin mirrors. Legs askew, resting forward, then back to downshift, downshift, brake, pause. Throttle twisted to its full reach as with fluid motion we pass another lagger, another bumpkin turning for home.

We fall in behind a pack. The road twists and turns, hiding from vision the numbers before us. Climbing a ridge we break the crest and ahead lies a vision of self to horizon bikes, a straightaway of metal and flesh, ponytails, braids and American flags flapping in the phantom wind. Deafening rumble wraps around me like a long lost blanket and for a time I am aware of little else, save its incredibly powerful, throbbing beat.

Craving solitude we veer along a dry creek and dip into a holler, a sandstone cliffed valley of oak and willow and birch. Leaning, turning, twisting we wind our way through the vale where we chose our first house. "We will live here" I said so long ago, but its magic had faded. Still pretty but less so since the purchase of our current space.

Back to the main drag my compatriot rides tandem beside me, seemingly tethered by a cord, slipping forward and back until we find our rhythm and then lock; as if strapped by steel, four feet apart at 65 mph.

The road stretches before us like a string of black licorice, begging us to roll it up, taste its many flavors, and we do....miles and miles of candy become our property, our experience.

The crystalline shell of closeted skeletons, demons, woe and pain shatters into slivers of glass, peeling off me like unneeded skin, whisked away on the self made breeze. An unstoppable voice wells up inside me, straining to be allowed to scream it's glory.


All the vestiges of darkness cower at my feet, all the has beens wander off, all the whining and crying and fitful sleep vanish into nothingness for a moment, and by GOD this moment is mine.

All those that have done me wrong sit within themselves wondering what to do with life.

A planet filled with weary, glazed over minds search for the remote to find some vapid entertainment to replace the still more vapid entertainment they've lived with for life... and I?

I am cradled in the hands of God, born on the wings of Pegasus, swooping across meadows of greens and golds, gliding through forests of reds and yellows, following the mighty Mississippi, Chippewa, Zumbro, their waters refreshing me with each sideways glance.

THIS is an orgasm of not ten seconds, but HOURS of continual rush, exhilaration over every hill, danger at every corner, newness found every passing on roads I've been a thousand times.

Whew. I gotta do that more often.

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