A mind of its own

A rocky path,
On mountain high,
Riding up,
Touch the sky,
Then down the side,
To valley far below,
The bike remained,
I continued to go.

©2013, Donald Harbour

Speed Racer

Speedin’ down the hill,
Spokes hummin’ like a sack
Of mad bees.
Tears streamin’ outa the corners,
Of my eyes.
Pedlin’ as fast as the chain,
Can go.
Bugs smackin’ my face and chest,
Fear grippin’ my gut,
Chuck hole ahead.
Cars gettin’ outa my way,
Everyone on the sidewalk clappin’,
I don’t give a cotten pickin’ damn,
If I live or die,
The bikes speedometer peggin’ forty-five,
I’m flyin’,
Speed limit thirty mph,
Cop with a radar gun clockin’ me,
Laughin’ finger pointed to his head.
I’m a sixty somethin’ year old kid,
Giant MTB Full Suspension XTC,
Knobbies grippin the road,
I’m Speed Racer,
And I’m crossin’ the finish line first.

Copyright: 2008, Donald Harbour