BOOTS OF HARLEY

A Love Poem

BOOTS OF HARLEY

 

this universe has no center

and you’re not there.

this sun is only sunny on the hood-

its light can’t bend more benter

to be fair

as time stops running rings in wood.

 

the floorboards creak

and pictures speak

when I stand in empty corners making room,

for ghosts that want to have my seat

when they come in from the street

after riding like Valhalla under sun and moon.

 

summer shoes,

with beards of barley

in their soley grooves-

still think they’re boots of Harley

on electro glide down highway avenues-

with a woman’s arms around my waist

singing Bob Marley

and promising me her taste.

 

foot down. legs braced-

rocking back the headboard on the bed and base

in the hanging of her breasts

where my head would rest,

her lips a vanished beauty of the past-

explode

unload

to this contrast-

 

that turns its empty pages in my head

unlit, as I lie in bed,

running out of Kerouac road-

i feel the beat

and go to sleep

with some more story told.

 

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. From his 4th book WOODED WINDOWS. Copyright And All Rights Reserved.

 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

Life-long biker that I am, the title grabbed me. Whether this ride was actual, remembered or imagined, it was fun.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

I love the soulful melody threaded through the lines, woven like morning mist through the pines. The memories relived and the sense of longing really speak to the reader.

[Strider Marcus Jones]

Thankye for your lovely comment Linda.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

take a Magic Carpet Ride...i like the allusion to Kerouac, even though i couldn't get through "on the road"---tried three times.

and especially like "its light can't bend any benter"

i feel benter sometimes...

[Strider Marcus Jones]

Thankye Jacob. Your stories are the road.