Tunnel Visions

You are the wrong kind of torque

An un-fun velocity

A ballsy, bitter ride

In an ego-driven coupe

I’d prayed to survive

I am the wanted-to-walk

An emotional dallier

A noticing, freak-of-nature

In a too-long skirt length

You’d failed to ally

Sleek Retro Racers

If I were a motorcycle
I’d not wear a radio
Music to me matters too much

I would hope my handler
Would hold fast to my handlebars
She’d perfect my growl, I’d protect her glee

We’d wander where the warm days
Roar quiet into forked roads 
Riding together, torque and leather