Raggedy little motorcycle
black and pitted chrome
bits of dirt and oil
tattered seat and
cables dangling just short
of catastrophe
good enough to putter
across Venice Boulevard
and over the canals
sorry enough to droop
it’s headlight in disgrace
at the sight of the big BMW
parked proudly on the grass
in front of your apartment
one warm Saturday afternoon
foolish enough to dump me
spinning on the tarmac
to the laughter of all the girls
just good enough to be
enshrined in our mythology
the golden coach
that carried us together
at the start of our
love story
© Frank Kearns 2014
So Cal Yankee 