Saratoga Backroads

I straddle the tank black paint hot from the sun My boot finds the peg the whole bike waiting beneath me I thumb the switch the engine coughs, then catches Breathing deep waking up from its long quiet nap I push it down into first the clutch letting go smooth and easy Gliding forward, faster now, gaining speed Saratoga backroads unwind past the old barns and corn fields Mid-afternoon heat rising up off the road rushing by Wind starts to climb the windshield's edge Pulling me forward, right up to the ledge Chrome throwing sunlight the pavement rushing by Four cylinders singing the whole road starts to fly Wind against my chest and my heart beating light Nothing in the world feels quite this right I lean into the curve where the tree line breaks open Windshield splits the air but the wind still finds its way in The engine's vibration climbs up through my hands and settles into my chest Just me and the hum of the road engine and mind running together Four up now, top gear, the world starts to blur at the edges Fields of Saratoga rolling past in a wash of gold and green Sweet corn, wind and gasoline, the smell of a summer afternoon Nothing to prove, nowhere to be, just the road unwinding ahead The sun sits high the shadows run thin The hum of the engine is under my skin Wind roaring past me thunder filling my ears Hand on the throttle the highway disappears Man and machine as one, welded to the flight Nothing in the world feels quite this right For a moment the throttle eases, the world goes quiet and slow Just the tick of hot chrome and the way the cornfields glow Then the wrist rolls forward, the engine answers the call Saratoga afternoon disappears, no road, no bike, no me at all Sunlight and speed and the roar all as one Body and steel and the wind and the sun Pure joy running through me, alive and so bright Nothing in the world feels quite this right