In the moment the spoken words lifted me from my seat, I knew that I had arrived. Meaningless, lilting prose spoke to parts of my soul that had been set free by unapologetic honesty. The poetry group seemed to last only moments, although the clock indicated hours. Fitting in with those who fit nowhere only reminded me that these moments are too few in my life.
I'm tired of trying to fit in. I don't want to be weird, or to stand out; only honest about my purpose. I want to act natural, feel natural, live natural, be natural, in my own world. And no, you can't be part of it. This is only for me.
Mounting my motorcycle Gracie I realize she belongs to me, with me, under me, between my thighs. She roars with delight as I stroke her throttle and bring her soul to life, the way she brings mine to life with each mile. She was once forgotten, forsaken, neglected and alone, the way I had been. We found one another by happenstance, the way one finds a penny in a parking lot. I wasn't looking for her, but there she was. Taking her meant parting with my good friend Katie, but my soul knew the time was right. I seized the moment.
Gracie roars on misty streets in the moonlight, harmoniously weaving through the manholes and streetlights, tickled to simply be in motion. She wishes we could ride farther, longer, faster, but she does not complain. She waits ever so patiently at the curb, under the streetlight, for my next approach.
She knows I need her, I want her, I love her. With the turn of the key, the ignition sparks my heart, charges my desire to chew yellow-striped asphalt and swallow wind. She rumbles between my legs with anticipation of our next road, hoping there is no destination, only a life to ride.
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