Sticky, humid summer heat
Things can only get better
or wetter
I breathe, I sweat
I stand, I sweat,
I sleep, I sweat
I shower, I sweat
But at least it’s not winter cold
and winter grey
with rain on a winter’s day
Sunshine, suntan
shorts and short-sleeves
and sleep uncovered
Sleep?
What’s sleep in this heat?
Instead I write
I write, I sweat
The road keeps rolling under two spinning wheels
and your eyes are peeled;
for anything and everything
and the heat of the engine burns your knees
as the cool air kisses your skin
and with the visor down you can see the bugs hit your face
while the wind plucks at your jacket with its airy fingers
as you change up and change down
and your ankle stiffens like a rusty bolt
and you sweat; you sweat
and the inside of your crash helmet smells like a wet dog
but it’s all OK because that’s a motorcycle;
that’s my motorcycle.
My Words, My World 