there they go
darting in and out of cars
on I-75 doing 95mph
rain or shine
beneath artemis digital traffic signs
proclaiming it motorcycle season
share the road

“stupid shits”
i utter as i drive

i’m plagued every time i see a bike

ducati, indian, or harley
they all kill you the same

a photographic memory
and having been a mortician
doesn’t mix well

still shots in my mind
the smell of torn viscera and burn
you can’t download online

because a head wearing a helmet
can still be broken at the neck
turning it backwards on the body

a limb wearing leather
will quite easily sever from the torso

you’d be surprised how
the flesh of the nose
the lower jaw
and tongue
so willingly rip from the face
when asphalt is applied

so no,
you half drunk mid-life crisis
stumbling out of the mini-mall
sports bar
in your just for men beard dye
and
go vroom vroom costume

i’m not interested in a ride