More Bike Ur Poet Tree

The Rider’s Warehouse catalog has

Many motorcycle accessories

On its shining, colorful pages

Most of which

Are wholly unnecessary

In order for one

To enjoy a motorcycle journey

But like scavenger birds,

Yuppie douchebags

Are attracted to sparkly items

Which allow convenience

At the cost of

Simplicity and modesty

And, of course, cash.

If I ever got a flat tire on a ride

Or if my bike fell into a ravine

Or if my engine torched the crankshaft

And if someone produced a bright yellow

Plush Mr. Happy puppet

From the Aerostitch catalog

After such an accident

In order to console me

I would be compelled

To pluck it from their paw

And grind it into the ground

With my boot

And then cut it into ten similarly sized

Small yellow fuzzy pieces

And throw the whole mess

Into the nearest ditch.

I suppose that others will say

That I am possessed of distemper

For thinking such things

But then, I am a biker

So I don’t give a shit

What others think.