Okaton Bridge

 The annual Sturgis Rally occurs in August. Once while working on road construction I stood on a bridge over I90 and watched the groups of bikers heading west to Sturgis. That evening in Murdo I tried to talk to a rider that had a beautiful black BMW. The rider was dressed all in leather with lots of chrome and silver bangles, seemed kind of in a daze after a long day on the road and kept looking at the bike.

As we sat watching

From Okaton bridge

The traffic slowed

 And stopped

The road lay silent

Vibrating in the heat

And around the curve

Came a buzzing prophet

Sliding by black

Reversing into bright thoughts

I dreamt of what

I would, would not do

With that kick of power

Grabbing the other soul

Jetting over the road

In the speed that is me

Accompanied by a dash

And they come

In groups

Singles

One two three

As they touch you

As they show you

As they flit by

On big gaudies

Like a bright day

Caressing the curves

Holding the straightaway

Leaving everything behind

With everything ahead.

That night

Pitching pennies

I stood next to a

Black beauty

Shining in the light

The other part of it

Standing next to me

Amazingly white haired

For something so young

And dressed in black leather

Silver stars and buckles

Unable to answer my questions

Standing nervous

As if to ask the other half

For permission to go to sleep.