Straddlin’ warm, breathing’chrome n'
savorin’ exhaust that ignites
the fool’s fire—
Thank God for Clairol’s Color Vive
or else the rest of the crowd
woulda guessed my secret.
Back when my “Farrah Fawcett” ‘do coulda
been changed to a water faucet
that I’d a had to tend to
if the three miscarriages I
got were the “successful”
undoing’of me.
Fingers strokin’ velour and plastic gripped bars
slick with caustic rainwater,
as I gun and screech—
A smokin’ banshee
shreddin’ the streets,
hustlin’ a true boar and
polish the ivory tusks.
My blonde’s so light now no one
kin see the whites or grays
these kids call colorless hair nowadays.
Obsidian ‘nicked helmet clack-snaps visor
covers up crow’s feet better ‘n
any Almay cake foundation
found in all a 7-Eleven in Creation.
Glancin’ wickedly at ‘im.
Goin’ on twenty years now,
Since we been together ain’t no man ever
Git between us.
O’ course, this bike
wern’t built for two.
A contest entry
- anything & prewrites!, as short, long, freewritten or rhyming as you wanna be! by wendymolly.
690 points, ended June 14, 2008, 55 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
loved the last lines!
I don't know how... You achieved such a great write, except to say for me.... This does bring back memories of youth and the growing old that inevitably comes after. And for that your in! You are a Finalist!
~pithyAplomb. -
Oh yes! I could virtually feel the unforgiving summer rays on my back. So long since I've let the hum revive me, so long since there's been another behind me {grin}. Liked the depth in this tremendously.
Biker Chicks never fail to, Ride or Die! -
well this poem was indescribable i mean that in a good way it felt like there was a lot of feelings in it you should keep up the good work and keep writing over and out bringer of missery
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