Ramblings on motorcycles, tattoos, alternative everything, politics, war and life in New York City.

The First Perfect Day


Leaving her apartment at six in the morning                                                                                                                                                    her bedroom thick with the lure of sleep
birds twittering in the trees around me
welcoming the sudden birth of Spring on the Island

the joy of riding the Hog
without cringing at the steel caress of the wind
welcoming it this morning
as I soar into the tequila sunrise
dawn at 300 feet over the Hudson
freighters below, pristine, like children’s models
muscling their slow way into the Atlantic

grey clad soldiers
hunchbacked with rucksacks at the ready
the golf course route                                                                                                                                                                                                 green, gold and rustling with awakening earth
I drop back and take my time
greeting the canadian geese
and the Brooklyn commuters
each consumed with their morning routines

morning shower, euphoric                                                                                                                                                                                         glorious heat, needling                                                                                                                                                                                                                            skin and nerves alive and jangling                                                                                                                                                                     singing along with the seagulls that live in my attic

work                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 easy comaraderie                                                                                                                                                                                                        friendly people                                                                                                                                                                                                                   no quick brutal death or sudden harsh word                                                                                                                                                         to mar this Army morning                                                                                                                                                                                                                  just joking over fresh coffee and homemade                                                                                                                                                    chocolate chip brownies                                                                                                                                                                                                                            the day rolls along cheerfully                                                                                                                                                                                  like a friar                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       making amiable parish rounds

young evening                                                                                                                                                                                                           descends on Brooklyn like a soothing bandage                                                                                                                                                    riding the Hog to jiu-jitsu                                                                                                                                                                                            the streets warm and welcoming for the first time in months                                                                                                                     the engine growling beneath me                                                                                                                                                                      purring with the newfound March freedom                             

the class ripe with sweat and low level pain                                                                                                                                                familiar, reassuring                                                                                                                                                                                           respected partners in the drills                                                                                                                                                                         gasping for breath, learning the new routines                                                                                                                                             perhaps men need pain and something stronger than themselves                                                                                                             to feel alive

later                                                                                                                                                                                                                              laying with her in the candle brushed darkness                                                                                                                                             her body stretched out next to me                                                                                                                                                                   long, tanned, Mediterranian                                                                                                                                                                           trading painful muscles for something more dangerous                                                                                                                            her eyes dark and sparkling green in the shadows                                                                                                                                     warily alive                                                                                                                                                                                                                 watching me in that silent interrogating                                                                                                                                                                 way of hers

and at the end                                                                                                                                                                                                             drifting into fog wreathed sleep                                                                                                                                                                                  I can feel the winter dying around me                                                                                                                                                                    and the slow pulse of Summer                                                                                                                                                                        waiting just over the horizon


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