A Harley in My Dreams

Wind whistling through
what hair remains
Laying her over on the curves,
expediency
given over to exhileration
and tires whine
Calling she and I back
to places not yet seen

A Harley in my dreams
Something less at the moment
but the feel is there
The winding two wheeled freedom
of life in a sleeping bag
Meals caught like wildlife
wherever they're found
or not found

Towns fall like leaves in a meandering
never ending autumn
Lowland Bohemia and climbing
Austria, a flower treasure spilled open
Salzburg, Innsbruck, St. Moritz
at a back road pace, between
horseback and the Autobahn
in a long slide to Italy and friends

The return across French Alps
through ancient upheaved
falling land turned sideways
Seven Swiss passes, into cloud
and through, breaking sun
Breaking my heart, breaking down
patching up, catching breath
Wanting home, wanting never home

Knowing this is home, wondering
at the life event
Stunned that whining tires brought me
here from there
will take me back, bring me once again
Maybe next year Spain and maybe not
The plan's the thing and damn the day
when wheels stop rolling