From: Kirkland@yabbs
To: all@yabbs
Subject: This Masterpiece
Date: Sat Apr  9 11:54:24 1994
I rode west.
The motorcycle was as one with the road as I crossed the plains.
The wind is whipping through my hair.
The sun is high in the sky.
My leather jacket bakes from the heat- like the road.
Ponytail? ...nahh.
Sunglasses with no glare from the road.
Yellow lines, dashes, dashes, lines, dashes.
Lines.
I am headed for the hills for I know love can be found there.
The sun goes down.
The moon is full and my tank is empty.
Fuel- for bike and man.
I light up a cigarette and take a drag.
Image is everything.
I cough and drop the smoke; smash it with a toe.
Image is nothing.
I gun the accelerator and am off.
Gas station left in the dust, duty fulfilled.
Passing lane- don't do it, it's a trick.
Patience...
a virtue, the key, a calmness... hmmm.
Trees line the road.
I like trees.
It's getting cold.
I could stop and rest, but I won't.
Midnight.
The air is so quiet; the engine roar so pure.
I am lost in the night's embrace as the road ribbons through the hills.
I look up.
Stars... windows to heaven.
"Hi, God."
[ I wave ]


- - - - -
(I got done writing this and said, "Now what should I call this 
masterpiece?"  And so it went.)
The last poem (Fade2Not) was a little dreary so I hope this cheers you up.

-Kirkland