Poetry—A Fine Line

thrusting forward
my arms squeeze around you
tighter and tighter
your wrist snaps
gripping the throttle
accelerating instantly

lunging faster and faster
we fly along the yellow line
taking the corners at a forty-five-degree angle
to the hard, rough asphalt below

eyes wide open
i watch the world go disconcertingly by
in a vibrating blur
senses sharpened
the sweet scent of ponderosa pine
intoxicates my mind

the speedometer hits
an improbable number
wind roaring in my ears
the sprinkling rain barely touches us at all

as we take a freedom flight
free to die or
free to live
the thread in-between is thin

we exist only in this fleeting moment
a blink in time
warm, thick leather
helmets clicking
engine humming
patches of impossibly blue sky
rain clouds scudding by
at the speed of light

my thigh muscles tense
hug the bike
leaning into you and the wind as one
into whatever comes next

full on full force
we belong here as one

I know I am afraid
but I am here

I am.