bike week nite

I resist television

shit

and leave for the purring road
the ever present roar

surf and cylinder

cruise down the strip
neon roar
dead animal skin

and machines

pull off and park near a beach

walking

it is bitter cold

(I thought this was florida!)

empty car streets lined with motorcycles
aged and state of the art
they are all loud
when their owners sit

and rev

and roar
for twenty minutes
bang pop and swell

amongst the black and bike consumers
there are some truly leathered souls.
guys you pass

an instant whiff of the road

of being deeply fucked with

and rejecting a whole lot of shit

one such is even pleasant

larry, from York, PA

has a yellow honda touring bike

with two basset hounds
felonious assault the male
misdemeanor, the female

they are strapped onto sideboards

riding with larry tonight an hour to orlando

as larry layers demin and leather,

it is bitter cold!
I offer to help him with his chaps,

"have to learn to do it myself."

wandering the strip
commodity fetishism,

black t-shirts

leather goods

plush biker pig stuffed animals

I arrive at a bar

still cold,
we wait on the street

for access

to Froggies

we leave for the bank bar
the razorbacks are playing