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Speaking of the Beast

 

Speaking of the beast,
I grabbed my keys,
Walked down the hall,
into the garage.

Over in the corner under the bright white light
of the lonely incandescent bulb,
suspended just a few feet above where,
the beast made its majestic stand.

A beautiful vivid black and chrome,
Harley-Davidson Road King motorcycle,
it glistened under the light
and it was the envy, of all the other jewels,
adorning the Emperor’s golden crown.

I pulled; on the choke knob,
turned the ignition switch,
the beast awoke from its slumber,
and was ready to roar.

I reached for the throttle and twisted it,
pushed the start button,
the starter-motor whirred,
the engine turned over.

The big V-twin backfired and rumbled to life,
its deep throaty exhaust sounds
filled me with happiness,
and launched a shiver of excitement down my spine.

I inhaled the unburnt gas fumes,
which lofted into my nose,
The Beast’s V-twin engine warmed up,
recharging its battery.

My spirits were rejuvenated,
casting the anxieties and the melancholies,
of my mind, out to perish in the winds.

I marveled at its mechanical beauty,
the homogenous blend of glossy black steel,
mat black leather, and gleaming chrome,
completing its glorious appearance.

The adoration I have for this machine
is renewed and is strengthened,
every time I hear the rumble of its exhaust notes.

That awe-inspiring sound, beckons me,
to climb astride its leather-seated frame,
and ride into that distant utopian world,
where only a few, have ever been allowed to go.

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