When I close my eyes


Sometimes, when I close my eyes
I’m back in California
A younger man, who takes off his rollerblades
Happily exhausted, after a day on the special,
The very special, skater road in Santa Monica
Which runs right though the middle of the sand
For miles . . . even crossing under the pier
And snaking on, like a dream that never ends . . .
Sometimes, when I close my eyes
That journey ends, next to a bike, not a rental car
And the glint of evening sun on the deep chrome
That can only be a Harley, makes you want to
Drink the moment, not caring that the glare
Takes away everything else you might not
Want to see . . .
And I swing a tired limb over that low saddle
Flick the switch and listen to the sound of
Pure but glorious manufactured thunder.
Sometimes, as I smile at the suited executive,
Who slows to let me out on to the highway,
With a flash of white California teeth
And a smile that is joy to see
Whose grin is shared and ever present
In my vibrating rear view mirror
And whose laughing face
Shares, for miles, the moment
That should have died
Knowing it will, soon, be brief
But not yet
But worth it . . . always
And soon, the roads fade as we climb
Ix and I, feeling cooler air flow down
From the mountains above
And the gleaming thunder shines below us
Till we have reached the roof of the world
And only the sea is below.
Sometimes . . .
(And yes, I wish I had taken that photo)
(Picture from Harley Davidson’s UK website:

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