National Poetry Month
Poem of the Week
April 11, 2005
Today, while cleaning the garage
a strange and interesting
event occurred
A dust devil
mini tornado
danced up the driveway
and across the cement floor
It wandered a bit
in its to and fro sway
then dashed forward
where it spent itself
on the phat black and chrome body
of my ol' Hawg
Being a man of voice
whose mouth has learned to close
the better to listen to nuances
phantom messages
I settled myself
in the dust of my new Friend
contemplated kicking the ol' Hawg to life
which deed was done before I knew it
another specific and one-time event
as she woke purring
on the first stroke
Entranced
I backed 'er out of the garage
pointed 'er toward the street
and let 'er have 'er head
Rolling West, down Baseline Road
memory took a swipe at me
dragged me back to the eighties
that same street and new boots
bearded brothers before me
and roaring up from behind
the guitar man, Matthew
life-Friend at my side
Up the mountain we'd ride
to the wedding of Phil Howell
to his beautiful Asian, silken-haired lady
and their wind faces under the pines
the preacher smart in his dark clothes
the music of creaking leather
cooling metal of iron horses
and darting birds
curious in their singsong quick-eyed way
Past Table Mesa Boulevard
traffic and Boulder lights fading behind
the road smooths out, single lane
an easy climb through the foothills
For the seasoned Colorado rider
a certain preparedness takes place
Hairpin curves, jackknives await
cool, tree-shadowed paths
and startling, sun-splashed views
Motor and cam, heartbeat and blood
fuse in a shift, down shift
tap the brake and throttle forward fluid movement
Sunrise Amphitheater lies just ahead
around this blind curve or that
red stones surrounded by and punctuated
by sturdy pine and scrabble bush
I leave my war-worn Hawg, my dragon
on 'er stand and follow the steep path down
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