Bike Ur Poet Tree

I walk among the rows of wrecks

At the Japbike junkyard

I see folded frames

And rotten rubber

And shattered glass

And a cacophony of cables: clutch, speedometer and throttle

And indistinguishable lumps of steel and aluminum

These bikes sit at odd angles, transfixed and uncomfortable

A hundred monuments to fractured freedom

I am sure that some were witness

To the mortal demise of their riders

But which ones?

Blood has likely been washed away by now.

Rust crawls like a moss across the place

Dragging the steel back its natural state

And aluminum oxide occurs

Frequently

What wise overseer

is entrusted with these testaments?

I think his name is Bubba.

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WSMC racing this weekend at Willow Springs! Looks like it'll be a nice, balmy 90 degrees out there!